


No Regrets

by webcomix



Series: The Destiny Collection [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst and Feels, Baby Link though!!, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Gen, Growing Up, Pre-Calamity, Slightly Mature Themes, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-06-16 11:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15436500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcomix/pseuds/webcomix
Summary: He was a knight, like his father was before him, and his father before him.  He had been given a sword and shield to serve and protect his kingdom. He knew courage, charisma, and true companionship.His destiny had been set for him, one that would be writ with blood and tears into the history of Hyrule. He was not aware of this fate. He would never have guessed that he would raise a Hero to wield the sword that sealed the darkness.A chronicle of the son's life through the eyes of the father. Note: Despite being part of a series, this could probably stand alone.





	1. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @fantasyfighter3 for being a “first reader” for this story!
> 
> The Legend of Zelda belongs to Nintendo.

Chard opened his eyes. It was dark. He stared at the splintered rafters above him, listening to the low hum of the forest out yonder. His eyes followed the meandering crawl of a beetle that had wandered curiously onto the windowsill. Without turning around, it sensed Chard’s presence and fluttered back into the wild.

The silence was filled with a sigh coming from his right. It reminded him what he needed to do. Chard carefully removed himself from the rumpled blanket and tried to get off the mattress without disturbing her. But of course, once he had both feet on the floor, she rolled over and blinked up at him.

“Now?” she whispered, slightly slurred with sleep.

“Yes,” he said. He turned away from her under the premise of searching for his clothes. Faron was a humid, muggy place that didn’t suit him at all. It was a pain to be constantly swatting insects away and wiping the sweat off his skin. Chard hoped he’d never again have to experience the sensation of something slowly dripping down his back, trapped beneath layers of fabric and armour. Goddesses, it was disgusting. The best part of each day was getting to strip them off and bask in the freedom of wearing nothing at all.

Maybe that’s why he liked staying with her so often.

Her eyes were on his back as Chard pulled on trousers and shrugged into his undershirt. They had surprised him the first time. Bright, round, and pale like the moon that hung in the sky the night of that festival, one of the very few events that had broken up the monotony of sentry life at the outpost. He had to admit, he was rather taken with them the first few weeks... but it wasn’t his first assignment abroad, so any novelties wore off quickly. By the end of summer, he couldn’t wait to return to a real city and leave behind this smattering of houses that claimed to be a village.

He did his best to avoid turning around.

“I’ll miss you,” she said after a while.

“Your family will be glad to be rid of me,” was his only reply as he now dealt with the mail and greaves of his uniform. Goddesses, why were there so many layers? This was taking too long.

“When you’re gone, do… do you…”

She let her words trail into silence. Chard was relieved that she didn’t ask the question because he knew that she would not like the answer. He leaned over and kissed her for the last time. She clung to his shoulders, digging her fingernails, sharp as claws, into him. But with mail beneath his shirt, Chard could hardly feel anything.

Outside, Damen waited with their horses. It would take a half day’s ride to catch up with the rest of the company at the Eastern Post, then another half to make it all the way back to Castle Town. He regarded Chard’s confident stride with the weariness of one who had already given up on lecturing.

“You didn’t tell her.” It was a statement, not a query.

“That’ll just make it worse.”

Damen shook his head at him. Chard swung up onto his horse from the back, vaulting over its rump to land perfectly in the saddle. He wheeled it around to shoot Damen a winning smile, the same one that had melted so many hearts.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

* * *

_One Year Later_

“It’s called, ‘making the eight.’”

It was late afternoon in the Castle Town Watchtower Barracks. Most of the guard were finally off-duty, making way for socialising and relaxation in the mess hall. Chard leaned against a wall and pretended not to be listening to this inane discussion as he gave his sword another careful polish with a rag.

The soldier’s fat face was shining from sweat and red from ale, and he held up his fingers as a pimply-faced recruit listened on in earnest. “Akkala, Eldin, Faron, Gerudo, Hebra, Hyrule, Lanayru, and Necluda. Eight girls from eight provinces. Once you’ve made the eight, my boy, you’ll finally be considered a man.”

Somebody let out a soft, derisive snort. Chard looked up in time to see Damen folding his arms and shaking his head.

“Oy!” The fat soldier waved at him gleefully. “Cap’n, you ever make the eight?”

“I’m a married man, Ruck.”

“So am I,” piped up another soldier who set down his cards from the other side of the room. “But makin’ the eight is an institution when you’re a soldier of Hyrule.”

“Gerudo’s the easiest,” advised one man. “They’re always on the hunt for husbands, so all you need is to mention you’re looking to settle down, and they’ll do anything to reel you in.”

“Gerudo is the hardest,” retorted another. “They’ve got such damn high standards.”

“Of course they’re going to reject your pathetic arse, Enda. Those women prefer strong and capable men.”

The recruit’s eyes darted around the room. It was clear to Chard that the boy was feeling a great sense of alarm and fear at possibly being the only single man present who had yet to take part in the so-called institution. His gaze finally settled upon Chard.

Ruck chortled. “I’m afraid not, lad. This one may seem young, but don’t underestimate his vigor. Why, I doubt eight was hardly enough for such an ambitious appetite—”

This was met with roars of laughter. Chard gritted his teeth when he heard the recruit gasp with amazement. The noise died down quickly when the sword in his hand suddenly swung into position.

“Good to know you’ve no lofty ambitions yourself,” he snarled. “Because blustering fools aren’t the only ones with an appetite.”

Ruck eyed the blade with feigned nonchalance, scratching his chest. “Hey, there’s no need for that. Can’t even take a joke now? And I’ve said no lies. Everyone here knows it.”

Chard stepped forward, but a hand pushed his shoulder back. He glared over at the person who had finally deigned to step forward and intervene. “Not worth it,” Damen said.

Chard sheathed his weapon, but not neatly — the tremble of his arm made the blade clatter amateurishly in its scabbard. He avoided the gaze of the recruit, whose awe had dissolved into pure admiration by now. He felt loathsome. Mutters peppered the air. Ruck emptied his mug as another soldier leaned in conspiratorially, though his whisper was anything but quiet. “He knows his way around a sword.”

“In more ways than one,” snickered someone else.

Chard walked away. All went silent when he closed the door behind him. He strode down the narrow, dim corridors within the town walls. Every once in a while, his face would be striped with light that streamed through thin arrow slits carved out in the stone. He reached a tower and climbed the ladder upward. The royal banner of Hyrule flapped maroon, blue and gold against the pale clouds. There was another soldier standing below it, leaning on his spear. He glanced over at Chard in mild surprise.

“You can go,” Chard snapped.

The guard raised a skeptical eyebrow but no complaints. Chard stepped to the edge of the ramparts once he was left alone. He turned his back on Castle Town with its bustling streets, bright blue roofs and mindless gossip to gaze out into the country. The winds that blew across the green fields of Hyrule turned the grass into rolling waves rippling northward towards him. Chard found himself frowning despite the pleasing rhythm.

A puddle had collected in a shallow groove in the stone. Chard glanced down at it without thinking. The water reflected his face, and he understood why the recruit had thought to seek him out. Unlined, clean shaven, framed by a head of sandy blond hair that was growing thick and shaggy. Perhaps it was time to cut it, or to grow a beard. Chard was done with being judged by his looks. They had served him well in the past, but… he flicked the surface of the puddle and watched as his eyes dissolved into the sky.

Soon, the sound of footsteps came to his ears. Damen appeared over the ladder. “That was an interesting show down there,” he remarked.

Chard scowled and resumed hunching over the parapet. Damen came to stand beside him. He folded his arms once again, hands tucked tightly against his chest. “Especially because… Ruck was, in his odd way, only being honest.”

“He’s still an idiot.”

“Yes, he is. But he believed he was delivering high praise. So imagine his confusion at such a strong reaction. Especially since months ago, we all would have expected some pride and perhaps even revelry in such a reputation—”

“Damen.” Chard had had enough. “Have you come to shame me?”

“Responding to a question with another question is poor conversation, but do I sense some regret coming from you?”

“No. I have no regrets.”

“If you say so.” Damen loosened his arms, also leaning on his elbows. He breathed in deeply. “You’ve been like this for a while. What’s going on?”

Chard didn’t respond. He didn’t want to tell Damen that he was right. His nerves had been on edge for weeks. And for the past three days, Chard had woken each morning with a strange feeling that something was going to happen. Something that could change the world forever. It was neither a good or bad feeling: just a general sense of restlessness. All he could do was wait.

He released his grip on the stone and straightened up. “I don’t want to be associated with these cretins anymore. I’m tired of the city beat — but I’m not interested in being sent to some backwoods garrison. Did enough time there.”

Damen stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Word has been going around that Commander Horam will announce his retirement, possibly as soon as the Queen has her child.”

“So, a few months?”

Damen nodded. “Someone’s going to have to take his place.”

“Then let us pray that Hylia will send someone decent to clean this place up.” Chard turned to lean against the parapet instead. The blue roofs of the town changed hues under the shadow of the castle. “It certainly won’t be me.”

The uneasy energy seething beneath his skin calmed slightly at his friend’s full-throated chuckle. “I only meant that it’s a good time as any to move onto something better. So, when are you going to take the royal trial? I always assumed that’s what you planned to do, considering your father…”

Chard felt his throat constricting. He now wished that he wasn’t facing the great bulk of Hyrule Castle. The wind continued to flow past him, riding along the roofs and setting the pennants at the tops of towers flapping.

Damen wised to the mood and changed the subject. “Well, even if you stay here, there will be plenty of opportunities for advancement. If you also make it to captain, that could garner the attention of a noble lord who may employ you for more lucrative opportunities. I’ve had several offers, but my place is here.”

“The lucrative, but boring role of an over-equipped butler. Thank you, but no thank you.”

Damen threw his hands up. “There’s no satisfying you, is there?”

If this had been an ordinary day, Chard would have laughed. But despite the balmy breeze and final rays of sun breaking over the cliffs of the Gerudo Highlands, he felt incapable of cheer. The sky glowed with the warm oranges of twilight, and his senses threatened to scream. Whatever was coming was almost here, and he could barely stand it.

He was still staring at the way the castle’s spires pierced the clouds above when another soldier came huffing up the ladder. He removed the plumed helmet from his head and saluted briefly to Damen, but addressed Chard. “Delivery for you.”

Chard and Damen looked at each other. It was most unusual for packages to arrive at the Watchtower on the verge of nightfall. They followed the messenger through the narrow corridors. Chard’s apprehension grew with each step. When they reached the foyer of the Watchtower, the hall was blessedly empty save for the old clerk dozing off at his desk. The soldier pointed at a basket sitting upon a far table and left without another word.

The two men slowly approached the basket. It was rather large, Chard noted, and woven from dried river reeds that were still green in a few places. Damen’s brows furrowed in suspicion when the basket suddenly wobbled on its own.

Chard lifted the lid.

A child lay upon a nest of ratty, old blanket. It seemed that another had been tucked beneath its chin, but chubby legs had managed to kick it to the side. The baby’s arms were raised over a head that had just barely begun to grow soft wisps of sandy blond hair. Chard and Damen started when the tiny mouth opened wide into a yawn, and eyelids fluttered open.

Chard stared into a pair of bright blue eyes in a familiar, but altogether far too young, face.

“Making the eight,” Damen said dryly, “Plus one.”

* * *

He did the only thing he could think of: replace the lid, pick up the basket, and leave the Watchtower. Glances of curiosity followed him as Chard hurried through the cobbled streets. It was crowded at this time, with the shops closing and darkness falling. The houses of Castle Town were little more than a mess of cramped rooms stacked upon one another, but even the newest additions to the kingdom’s capital would pour out their rupees for a narrow attic flat.

Chard stopped before one building that looked no different from the others: square, squat, and a little squashed. He wedged the basket under one arm, heart skipping a beat when he felt the weight of it slide dangerously to one side, and knocked on the door firmly.

After a few seconds had passed, he lifted his fist to knock again when he finally heard latches clicking. Chard hastily gathered the basket in both arms — feeling the unnerving wobble once again — and tried to rearrange his face into a neutral, if not pleasant expression. He reckoned that he would fail miserably at this.

The door slowly swung open and a woman peered out from a crack. The uncertainty fell from her eyes once she saw him, and she pushed it the rest of the way with her arms extended. “Chard! Oh, it’s been ages.”

“Hello, mother,” he muttered as she grabbed his cheeks and bestowed a welcoming kiss upon his chin. Her fingers felt papery on his skin, and he had noticed the silver already threading through her blond hair. “I—”

“In,” she commanded, pulling him through the door before she re-latched it. Chard looked around him. His childhood home had changed very little throughout the years. Somehow, so much had been able to be packed in this small one-room house. A table and two stools were pushed against a wall, just narrowly missing a smoke-streaked brick fireplace. There was a single bed wedged into the far corner with a chest at its foot. Chard’s eyes trailed up the wooden ladder that led to the loft. Laundry hung from the rungs. That made sense; she would have had little use for his old sleeping quarters.

“What lovely timing,” his mother was saying. She swept right past him and the basket to set a cooking pot in the fireplace. “I have all the ingredients for a fish pie, but was thinking against it since I thought it would only be myself. But since you’re here…”

Chard remained standing as she puttered about and rambled on. He couldn't think of a way to smoothly change the subject. Luckily, she glanced over at him and narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong?” She finally walked over and realised the bundle in his arms. “What’s that?”

Chard put the basket on the table. His mother opened the lid. She froze, eyes widening at its contents. For several seconds, nobody moved or spoke, until the basket wobbled again. His mother gasped and lifted the baby out. There was no resistance, but little legs kicked in mid-air. Chard watched as she took in the general aura of… staleness that emanated from the newest member of their family.

“Water,” she ordered. Chard picked up a bucket and left.

She continued to keep him busy for the next half hour. Several trips were made to the well to wash the child, to wash the soiled tunic, to wipe down the basket where a fresh, softer blanket that didn’t smell like horse was arranged inside. It was only after the baby was wrapped up in clean clothes and wriggling curiously in its much more comfortable bed that she finally asked him. “How?”

Chard explained to the best of his ability, but there were gaps even he could not fill. His mother kept her gaze fixed on her grandchild, reaching in to rearrange its new tunic or wipe away invisible stains of dirt.

“But why the hell would she give it to me?”

His mother shot him a withering look. “ _He_ is your son. We don’t know the circumstances of his birth, but that much is clear. Perhaps she was hoping for a better life with his father rather than whence he came.”

Chard stared at the baby. His son. How old could he be? Three, four, five months? Old enough to have endured the trip up from Faron alone, but far too young for it to have been advisable. It had to be her. For all the gossip in the Watchtower, there had been nobody else that summer... he recalled her parents, dour and reluctant. They had never trusted Chard, and for fairly good reason. He wondered what they had thought when she had revealed her state and how she had convinced them to let her hold onto the baby for that long. Then, what happened so it was eventually sent his way. He’d never know.

His mother started when her grandson suddenly began to cry. “Oh, Goddesses. Such a long trip… with nothing to eat. We should have done that first.”

She kept the baby on her knee and instructed Chard in preparing the food: fresh milk thinned with well water, and cane sugar added after boiling. All thoughts of pie were completely forgotten. He handed the drink to her once it had cooled within the bottle, then watched as the baby gulped it down eagerly.

“There's a very big stomach in this one,” she said, smiling downward. Drowsiness had descended on the child, who only blinked slowly when she wiped the edge of his mouth.

“It smelled good,” Chard admitted. “I almost wanted to taste it myself.”

“You had your fill years ago,” she said. “I couldn’t wean you from it until you were well over two years old.”

They looked at each other and finally, finally relaxed into quiet laughter. Chard felt like he was home again, the years melting away like the sugar in the milk.

His mother stood and carefully settled the baby back into its basket. He was already lost in sleep, eyelids tightly closed and arms splayed out beside his head, like before. “If it brings you back,” she said, “I shall certainly make more.”

“Ah, but you’ve taught me the recipe now, so you’ve wasted your tactic.”

She reached over and grabbed his hand. “I’ve missed you. Please come home.”

“I’m busy.”

“But there’s a child now!”

“Yes, which is why I brought him here.” He had already expected the frown that flashed across her face. “What, do you expect me to raise an infant around soldiers? Soldiers with weapons, drink, and manners like a moblin.”

She sighed, but he knew that the point had been made. “Well… perhaps with Link here, you’ll want to drop by more often.”

“Link?” Chard groaned. “Only the sentimental name their children that. And it’s not even the Hero’s real name; it’s only for stories. They can’t have _all_ been named Link.”

“Well, do forgive my sentimentality.” His mother cooed at her newly christened grandson, who slumbered soundly as she tucked him in. “He has the same valiant spirit and courage. I can tell. He gets it from his father.”

Chard felt his stomach lurch at her words. “Don’t say that. It’s not true. You’ve proof right there.”

She ignored him, continuing. “And his father gets it from his father.”

Both of them turned at the same time to cast their eyes above the fireplace. Chard had avoided looking at it when he had first entered, but the afterglow of bonding over Link had lowered his defenses. Catching a glint from the flames below, the old Hylian shield still looked majestic. Age had not diminished the bright red of the wingcrest.

His heart ached when he looked at it.

“I would think,” his mother said softly. “That he would agree with me about your spirit and courage. He would have wanted you to pursue the highest honour that Hyrule offers. Why don’t you do so?”

“You can't simply march into the castle and demand knighthood,” Chard said. “You have to prove yourself. There’s a very specific trial, and it’s not easy.”

“Whenever you’re ready, then.”

Chard stood up. He leaned over and hugged her tightly. “I’ll see you soon, mother.”

She returned the embrace with equal force. Her shoulders felt bonier than before, though Chard supposed that he simply hadn’t given her a chance to show such affection in a very long time.

“I believe in you,” she said. “You’ll be a great knight. And so will Link, when his time comes.”

At this, Chard withdrew. “No,” he said. “Anything but that.”

“But—”

He was already pulling the door open. This had been an evening of singular upheaval; Chard knew that his life had been changed irrevocably, and it was purely through mistakes of his own. He couldn't change that, but he could prevent Link following him down the same path.

“He could be a blacksmith or a trader, or move to the countryside and start a ranch for all I care. Just don’t give him a sword.”

* * *

When Link was almost two years old, Chard found himself sitting numbly at the table of a stranger’s house.

“She said it was only for a short while,” a man was saying. He had thin, nervous fingers that twisted round each other as he tried to settle his hands into a stationary position. “That a doctor had confirmed the illness would run its course in only a few days. Since the boy is so small, she felt it was better to have some distance — don’t think she realised how dangerous it was, for a woman her age. I’m so sorry.”

Chard had only been gone two weeks. He had been at the Military Training Camp to help oversee the recruitment tests for the Hyrulean army. It was a mission typically reserved for captains in the guard, something that Damen — the Commander, he corrected himself — had given pointed emphasis. Chard knew that this was a not-so-subtle nudge from his friend and superior to channel more ambition into his life, but there was precious little time and energy to give it much thought when your toddler son demanded attention on every day off.

He had walked into the house that final evening to immediately see Link clinging to the ladder. He had made it all the way to the fifth rung, but Chard hid his pride and smile, coming to stand behind him with folded arms. “And how did you get up here?” he asked.

Link glanced around and gasped with delight. He held his arms up to his father, which of course meant letting go of the ladder. Chard scooped him up before he could hit the floor, swinging him around in a high arc and listening to the squeaks of laughter that bubbled out of such a tiny body.

“Is he climbing again?” His mother emerged from the rear of the room, vegetables in hand and an exasperated expression on her face. “This child gives me palpitations,” she complained, walking over to press Link’s tiny hand over her heart.

“He’s strong,” Chard said. “That’s good. Some early training.”

“But he falls,” she said, pointing.

Chard looked more carefully and this time, had to agree. Link’s arms and legs were covered in small bruises, though the boy seemed not to suffer from any pain. He had reached up to pat the stubble slowly growing along his father’s jawline.

“Ow,” Link said.

“Well, you don’t have to touch it,” Chard told him.

Link’s response to this was to press both hands even more firmly against Chard’s face, and it was only the smell of creamy carrot stew that finally removed them. Chard picked out a few chunks from the steaming bowl onto a plate for Link, who could barely wait to stuff the sweet, soft pieces into his mouth.

“Is it good?” Chard asked. Link nodded eagerly. “More?”

“Yes!”

The broth was cool enough now. Chard watched as Link did his best with a wooden spoon. He had taken to this skill very eagerly just a few weeks ago, having realised that a wider variety of food options would become available to him once he mastered utensils. Half of the stew went down his front instead of his throat, but Link committed to his task with the utmost gravity. Chard would have been content to stay and observe him for hours. His son was small and bright and constantly in motion, yet so serious and thoughtful and careful.

But that wasn’t possible, of course. Chard broke the news of his assignment, which his mother took well. “If Damen believes you’re capable, then you certainly are. So when will you finally tackle that trial?”

“At the castle, I’d see even less of you two,” he argued. “It’s a live-in garrison.”

She sighed. “I only think that you deserve more. If not for yourself, consider Link. Even with the royal pension, things have gotten tighter. You’ve seen how much he eats, and he’s growing like a weed… then there’s schooling to begin in just a year or two…”

“I’ll think about it,” Chard said. Just as he’d said every other week when they talked about this.

Link cried at the end of the evening. This was to be expected. Whenever Chard reached for the door, the protests would begin anew. “Hush,” he said sternly. “For the love of Hylia, you do this every time!”

His mother came over and helped pry small fingers from his collar. “He misses you. Do try to be a little more understanding.”

Chard leaned in towards Link and wiped his cheeks. “Would you like a Deku nut from the Great Hyrule Forest?” he asked. Link nodded. “Too bad, then. They’re not for playing. You’ll go blind just by dropping one.”

“Chard!”

“But I’ll find something else,” he said. “I promise.”

Link sealed this deal with a rather wet goodbye kiss. Chard passed it on to his mother, who also handed him a tightly corked bottle of soup. “I filled it so there’s two helpings inside,” she said. “If you want more, I can make it for you any time you like.”

“Every time, then.”

“I love you,” she said, squeezing his shoulder with her free hand. “Come back soon.”

He had returned right after his debriefing only to find all the windows dark. Chard had been on the verge of destroying the door when a neighbour finally alerted him to the news. He had run into the strange house and grabbed Link so quickly that the child had cried out in surprise before recognising his father. Now he ran around on the floor cheerfully, oblivious to the fate of his grandmother. Chard watched as he tried, with little success, to open a chest.

“We should have checked in,” the man muttered.

“It’s not your fault,” Chard said automatically, though his heart wanted to say otherwise.

The man followed Chard’s eyes, and a brief silence settled over them as Link doggedly continued to shake the lock. “Stopped crying pretty quick,” the man remarked. “ Wife took to him fast… helpful little fellow. Listens well. Why, the other day I mentioned the meal needed more salt then suddenly here he is, pushing a fistful into my knee.”

Despite himself, Chard felt the edges of his mouth twitch, like they almost wanted to make him smile. “Yes. He’s a good boy.”

The man returned his gaze to the table, his fingers flexing once again. “Wife was friends with her. They saw each other every day at the market, supposedly. But er, this is a small house. And we didn’t count on… I mean, she said it was only a short while…”

He looked embarrassed. Chard slowly pushed his chair back. “No. I understand. You’ve done more than enough for us. Thank you.”

“So… where’s he going to go?”

“With me.” Chard stood up. “But I’ll need him to stay here for just a while longer, if that’s alright. I’ll come back after some things are sorted out. No more than a week, I hope.” He reached into his pocket and found about 30 rupees. “I know it’s not much, but please.”

“Oh no, no no no. We couldn’t—”

“You’ve seen him eat. Take it.”

Even for all his stammering and apologies, the man had to admit that feeding Link was fairly expensive and accepted the money. Chard knelt beside his son, who had finally given up on the chest.

“Look, Link.” He felt around in his pouch, praying that it hadn’t smothered during the ride back. It had not, to his relief. Link’s eyes grew as large as apples upon seeing the lush pink and yellow flutter of a summerwing butterfly straightening out its delicate body. Chard tipped the insect onto Link’s palm, feeling warmth at the familiar giggle when six tiny feet tickled his boy’s skin.

“Listen,” Chard said, though Link was mesmerised by the butterfly. “I need to go away again, but not for long. Wait here and be good. If you’re patient, I can come back and take you with me, but you must wait. Okay?”

The butterfly, having tested all its faculties, took off from Link’s finger. Chard hugged him closer. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Link echoed.

Chard kissed his forehead and departed. He strode down the streets without making eye contact with anyone. This time, he pushed the door of the old slanted house in gently, aware that the hinges had sunken into the soft wood.

The room was all shadows. The furniture were smudges against the walls and ash still dusted the hearth. All of it was practically worthless. The next inhabitants could use them, or burn them as fuel. Only one object had any value at all. Chard lifted his father’s shield off the wall. Even in this darkness, it gleamed with promise.

Chard slung it over his shoulder and left the house forever. He turned north and walked towards Hyrule Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the way back when I was writing the very **first** chapter of HYD, I recall pausing in the middle of it and saying out loud, “They love each other so much!!”  
>  Of course, that was hard to tell from what commenced in that scene. The feedback I began to receive from readers regarding our beloved Chard was both uplifting and a little concerning — I was so delighted that people were fascinated by him and wanted more, but he was also getting interpreted as this distant and aloof figure in Link’s life, and I thought yes… but also no! Their relationship is complicated and full of obstacles but they’re close! THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH!!  
> But HYD’s story was not about Link and Chard, it was about Link and Zelda, so all of the heartfelt father-son feels could only be glimpsed in short spurts or between the lines. And Chard really did change a fair bit between that first chapter and the end, especially after I decided on (partially out of laziness, mind you) the circumstances of Link’s birth. Which, in turn, spoke volumes about Chard’s character, so I started weaving the threads backwards to see how he got from there to here…  
> So this is, finally, Link and Chard’s story. I really enjoyed creating an arc not just for the development of Link’s personality and heroic character, but also how that changes Chard as well. I hope you enjoy this too.
> 
> Chapter notes:
> 
> 1\. Wow, this was an angstfest and a half, wasn’t it? But I wanted Chard’s transformation from arrogant youth to dedicated protector to feel significant.  
> 2\. At the expense of looking totally crass, I borrowed “making the eight” from Game of Thrones. It just so happened that there are the exact same number of provinces.  
> 3\. There has always been the suggestion that the real heroes and details were lost to time, so storytellers were forced to fill in the gaps themselves (much like we fanwriters do!). I like the idea that every kid and their brother knows a “Link” since being named after the purported Hero is a yawn.  
> 4\. Y'alls will never escape my incorrigible need to insert a thousand tiny, subtle-or-not-too-subtle references to other LoZ games. But so far, I've managed to spare you the awful puns!


	2. Part Two

When Link was four years old, Chard accepted his first assignment abroad in almost five years.

He had completed the royal trial two years prior. It had been slightly underwhelming, although Chard would admit that it was no simple stroll either. Perhaps it was the memory of his parents, or the determination to preserve Link’s future that kept him swinging the sword, stabbing the stalnox’s eye with such a force that it exploded beneath his blade.

The Captain of the castle garrison had been very impressed. “That’s got to be one of the fastest finishes I’ve ever witnessed,” he said. “Welcome, soldier.” But once Chard explained about Link, he changed his tune. “Our duties are too great and require almost constant attention. Surely there must be somebody else he can stay with.”

“There isn’t,” Chard said shortly.

The Captain was taken aback, but did not challenge him. “Very well. I’m sorry to lose you. When you find a way, do come back.”

Chard had returned to the Watchtower. He had two Hylian shields now, which looked almost silly. Damen’s response was only that he was now overqualified to be doing sentry work for the town guard, and so he gifted Chard with a promotion and private quarters. Life eventually calmed. The grief quietly lessened with each day. His new responsibilities kept him busy: vetting recruits, examining investigative evidence, determining where resources should be allocated… more desk time than he would have liked, but it also allowed him to watch over his son. Link was happy to play beneath his grandfather’s shield on the wall.

It was an early morning in late spring when he and Link were outside in the tower yard. It was wrong for a boy his age to stay indoors all day. Chard had made it clear that Link was not to touch any of the soldiers’ training tools, not even the wooden targets, so he had made do with climbing. Chard stood back and watched Link slowly inch upward. He was beginning to think that he would never outgrow this urge to scale any kind of wall, but it was good exercise as any.

The metal gate suddenly scraped open. Soldiers at the Watchtower enjoyed their breakfasts, so it was rare that anyone would come in this early for practice. Chard looked over and saw Damen emerge from the building. He held the gate open for someone else to walk through behind him. It was a man Chard had never seen before. Moustached and rotund, he was dressed in bottle-green robes with a pattern of delicate leaves over low ankle boots — more statement and style than utility. A nobleman, then.

“Good morning, Captain,” Damen said. “This is Lord Alfons.”

The lord strode over and grasped Chard’s hand without any warning. “Honoured, so honoured,” he gushed. “I never dreamed that a royal knight would be hiding within the ranks of the Castle Town guard! You must be a soldier of singular virtue to forgo such honours to protect the common Hylian.”

Chard heard himself stammer out a feeble thanks as the nobleman continued to pump his arm up and down like it was a lever. It was freed only when Damen stepped forward. “Lord Alfons has asked after an escort for a journey he shall take at the King’s request.”

“Please consider,” Alfons said eagerly. “Not only is it a decent salary, but we may be making history! Provided that negotiations go through, this will usher in a new era of prosperity and collaboration between Hyrule and Lanayru. A wealth of knowledge, an alliance of strength, an outpouring of generosity which sails down the mighty Zora River!”

With a few clarifications from Damen, Chard eventually learned the mission details. The King was sending Lord Alfons as a Hylian ambassador to entreat with King Dorephan of the Zora. Lord Alfons, though friendly, seemed rather pompous and slightly too idealistic for Chard’s tastes. Link had scrambled down the wall at the approach of visitors, and now he leaned back when the enthusiastic ambassador squatted down to peer into his face.

“What a fine young fellow,” he said. “Son, would you like to go on an adventure? Zora’s Domain is the most beautiful city in the world, sheltering beneath the snow-capped mountains of Lanayru with waterfalls that flow like liquid diamonds. Their men are twice your father’s height with knives for teeth, and all the ladies are simply dripping with gems! If your father agrees, you could see them with your very own eyes.”

It was clear why the King had chosen Lord Alfons for this job. Link’s mouth hung open with innocent disbelief at such descriptions.

“How long?” Chard asked.

“That really depends,” Alfons admitted. “I’ve been granted a three day stay for now, but if we are able to settle on satisfactory terms, this could very well extend to the end of the season.”

Chard looked over at Damen, who seemed extremely amused. He knew that Chard was becoming tired of his day to day duties, but would never leave Link behind. Three days was barely any time at all. Alfons promised good pay, and Link was gazing up at him with undisguised hope. It was an easy choice to make.

So right on the brink of summer, the three of them left Castle Town for Lanayru. Link drank in the sights from Lord Alfons’s carriage, pushing himself against the windowsill to watch the farmlands and forests roll on by. Everything captivated him: the golden stalks of rice filling the fields, lazy buzzing bees flitting from wildflower to wildflower, and foxes who darted back into the tall grass at the sound of the turning axles.

His attention never waned even as they disembarked at the mouth of the Zora River and continued on foot. Link ran after frogs on the damp soil, proving to be as tireless as they were. Well, perhaps not so tireless. After lunch, he abruptly fell asleep. Chard picked him up, pulling a hood to cover his head for the pelting rain that steadily fell for most of the latter portion of their trek.

Link woke up with the sun as they made it to the Great Zora Bridge. And beyond it lay Zora’s Domain. Chard shielded his eyes from the brilliant halo of light that surrounded the crystalline city. Graceful towers and glowing columns were connected by walkways that flowed between the levels like water. An element that was in absolute abundance from the lake below to the shimmering peaks of Lanayru surrounding them. A beautiful fountain lay just ahead, rainbows winking in and out under glittering arcs that spouted from its engraved spire and into shallow pools along the floor. As they walked across the immaculate bridge, Link leaned out of Chard’s arms to watch, in amazement, charcoal grey and deep blue fins flashing through the waves and up the gushing falls to greet them.

“You have entered Zora’s Domain,” stated one of the Zora, striding ahead of his squadron. Chard had to crane his neck to meet his gaze. The knights wore a gleaming half-helm bearing an intricate swirling design around the triple-crescent symbol of his people. A spear was clenched each of their fists, ending in a waning moon sharpened to a dangerous point on either end. Their leader’s eyes trailed over Lord Alfons’s soggy moustache, Link’s wide-eyed stare, and finally, the Triforce and wingcrest that adorned Chard’s shield. “And must be the embassy from Hyrule.”

He introduced himself as Sergeant Seggin. Chard set Link down to shake the Sergeant’s hand, which dwarfed his own considerably. The Demon Sergeant, they called him, according to the briefing Chard had received from Damen in preparation for the trip. He felt rather outclassed. As they were escorted up curved staircases, Chard saw a contingent of Zora elders waiting on the platform above. They peered over the railing, murmuring to each other as Alfons bounded forward, his boots splashing clumsily in the pools.

“Charmed, utterly charmed,” he declared. He tried in vain to grab a hand for a vigorous shake, but each attempt was evaded. “Ambassador Alfons, at your service. I cannot begin to express the joy I feel to have finally met you. If it would so please you, my companions and I would love to tour this breathtaking pla—”

“The sun still shines,” one of them interrupted. His age showed through the deep lines on his face and spots dotting his head tail. He narrowed his eyes at Alfons. “Let’s not waste any more time on this vapid babble. The council awaits.”

Alfons was reduced to stammers. “…Oh! That was, that is quite sooner than I expected.”

“Do you wish to appeal to King Dorephan or not?” another demanded.

“Er… yes, yes.” Alfons recovered quickly. “Yes! Lead on.”

Chard could tell that they were not entirely welcome here. Even before he took a step up the stair leading into the throne room, there was a sudden wet feeling on his knee. He looked down and there was Link. Utterly drenched. His hair, clothes, and entire self were completely soaked through.

“What happened to you?” Chard asked incredulously.

Link blinked away the rivulets of water that streamed down his forehead. “I fell down.”

Chard knew that wasn’t the whole story, but this was not the time or place for castigation. “You’re lucky you weren’t caught in those waterfalls,” he told him. “Be careful.”

Link tugged on his trousers again. Confusion was mixed into the guilt in his expression. Chard bent down to listen.

“Magic,” Link whispered. He lifted his shirt, but Chard saw nothing out of the ordinary except for cold, wet skin. He frowned, trying to interpret the situation, when a shadow fell across them.

Sergeant Seggin surveyed Link’s small, sopping form. “Your son, sir?”

“Yes.”

“A council meeting is no place for a child.” Seggin’s tone was not one of disapproval, just polite firmness. “He’ll have to wait for you.”

Link looked nervous. Chard was too, considering that Link had been out of sight for all of five minutes but already found a way to have an accident. Seggin straightened and called out over their heads. “Bazz!”

Chard and Link turned to watch as a young Zora, around the same height as an 8-year-old Hylian, came trotting out from behind the stair. He obediently stopped by the Sergeant, standing at attention. He had the same dark-coloured fins and a mess of fat snails in his arms.

“Take this Hylian boy with you to the lake,” Seggin ordered. “Be sure no harm comes to him, and bring him back in three hours.”

“Do I have to?” Bazz frowned. More Zora children came running over, also clutching snails. They circled Link, who held their gazes steadily.

“Yes,” Seggin said bluntly.

Bazz sniffed. It was clear that he was not keen on babysitting a stranger, but he did not question his Sergeant any further. He tossed a snail at Link, who caught it with both hands. “Fine. But keep up! I’m not carrying you!” Bazz turned and sped off with the other children, making a beeline for a walkway that led to the eastern bank. Without so much as a wave, Link rushed after them with the striped shell peeping through his fingers.

“My son,” Seggin explained with a smile. Chard would never have guessed that of all the things he could have in common with the Demon Sergeant, fatherhood would be one of them. They followed the others up the stairs into the throne room.

The meeting went horribly.

Alfons, for all his syrupy speech and bright smiles, failed to impress the Zora Council. They watched frostily while Alfons scurried up the silver dais in the centre, holding a small chest in his hands.

“O great Zora King,” he intoned, “Allow us to offer you this gift from Hyrule as a show of good faith.”

Alfons opened the chest to reveal three beautifully polished opals, a pale milky-white at first glance, but glimmering with all colours of rainbow once caught in the light. King Dorephan leaned forward and made a rumbling noise of appreciation in his throat.

“Good faith is what we all wish for,” he announced. He was the biggest Zora Chard had ever seen, several times the size of his already towering subjects with a voice to match. The flow of the fountains around him trembled whenever he spoke. “Muzu, please accept Hyrule’s gift on our behalf.”

Chard watched as one of the council members reluctantly stepped up from his seat to approach Alfons. He glanced at the gems and let out a thinly disguised scoff. “These were undoubtedly mined in Eldin, not Hyrule.”

“Yes,” Alfons agreed without skipping a beat. “Our partnership with the Goron has reaped countless benefits for both nations. Prosperity lies in working together and sharing the fruits of our labours.”

Chard couldn’t help feeling impressed at his colleague’s quick thinking and determination. The Zora council seemed to be equally determined to wear him down. As Alfons attempted to draw up a treaty of alliance, they proved their skills in picking apart each proposal, questioning every detail, and demanding conditions that were heavily skewed in their favour. When Alfons admitted that some of these requirements would be impossible to meet, their responses grew vicious and cold.

“So you expect us to take all of our deepest secrets,” snarled one of them. “Techniques that have taken centuries and the brightest of Zora minds to refine, and throw them at the feet of foreigners who have nothing to give in return? We have no need of your paltry goods — food we have in abundance, materials within easy reach, and it will take generations for Hylians even begin to comprehend our technological advancements.”

“Hyrule offers Lanayru all the protection it can muster, especially as the return of the ancient Calamity looms its head,” Alfons said gravely.

“And we have indulged by opening our doors to you. There is no other realm on this continent better defended than Zora’s Domain! The rivers and lakes are ours. Hylian, did you not know you were monitored the moment you stepped onto Inogo Bridge? Of course not. We were made well aware of your arrival hours before you saw a single luminous stone!”

Chard was tired of seeing Alfons’s smile become more and more strained. He glanced around the throne room. King Dorephan sat calmly in his pool. For all his approval at the opals, his presence did very little to curb the atmosphere of the debate raging below him. Chard sensed movement out the corner of his eye, and he glanced over just in time to see a Zora maiden quietly slip into one of the empty seats at the side of the court. She was petite and beautiful, with silver ornaments decorating her bright red head tail and fins trimmed in yellow and blue. The girl rested a tall trident beside her, a surprisingly strong and dangerous weapon for one so genteel. She looked up at King Dorephan and smiled. Though the King’s mouth remained sombre, the lines creasing around his eyes betrayed delight.

“You act as if you are the only answer to the Calamity’s threat.” The Zora elder shook with rage. “This is why we disdain Hylians. Such arrogance, merely from bearing the Goddess’s name—”

“Not only the name, but her bloodline,” Alfons reminded them. “Our Queen will certainly train the princess in the holy sealing powers that is her birthright once she is of age. And the fabled sword that seals the darkness is under our protection as well, awaiting the hero who will come to wield it in due time. Only these can defeat the Calamity. This is not arrogance, but historical fact.”

He had finally managed to beat the council into a sullen silence. King Dorephan took advantage of this lull to speak. “Hyrule’s ambassador is correct. Only the Goddess’s chosen have the power to truly protect us. I am a proud Zora, but I concede to destiny when it calls. Perhaps this is our chance to take part in something greater, to extend our influence and good fortune to the rest of the land. This must begin with graciousness. Even yesterday, we have received a request of permission from the Sheikah tribe to investigate the strange findings within Rutala River.”

Alfons pounced. “The Sheikah! Hyrule’s closest and most devoted ally since the era of the Goddess herself. Construction has begun on a royal research facility for studying their ancient technologies, which will certainly be vital in the great fight to come. Their requests will be in line with ours. Simply ask them.”

“Devoted and debased,” sneered another Zora elder. “The Sheikah were once the most powerful people of the continent, heirs to oceans of knowledge with their great technology. But a single word from Hyrule’ King was enough to abandon their progress, and all that did was to create yet another enemy for civilians to suffer from. The Yiga Clan has chased their revenge even to the eastern coasts! See the results of grovelling to Hyrule!”

“ENOUGH,” thundered King Dorephan. The room seemed to darken at his word. “This is no way to treat guests to our Domain. Today’s meeting is finished. I expect only civility at the banquet tonight from all parties. The Sheikah we will receive tomorrow, and see what they may find in the waters.”

Alfons bowed low before retreating from the dais. Chard saw that the Zora maiden had leaped to her feet. “Father!” Her voice carried across the large room even when she did not raise it. “I would like to accompany the researchers in their investigation tomorrow. Please, may I?”

“Of course, my dear.” King Dorephan bared his teeth in a proud grin as he looked down at her.

Alfons turned with interest. “Princess Mipha,” he whispered to Chard. “The King’s only daughter, and beloved to all the Zora. If we can get her on our side…”

Chard understood. The expressions on the council’s faces had all shifted immediately when they noticed her. But he said nothing even as he and Alfons were led away.

They had been allotted them lodgings atop the dam that held back the Eastern Lake Reservoir from the rest of Zora’s Domain. It was little more than a small house perched along the edge. It would have beautiful views of the Domain from here, but Chard also noticed several Zora knights patrolling the dam. They marched along the jetty, glancing at them every few minutes.

“Apologies for such simple quarters,” Seggin said to Chard. “But we are not accustomed to hosting visitors to our Domain. We have refurbished this outpost for your stay, but our guards will still maintain a presence to fulfill their duties. Your protection is our priority.”

They had no other choice but to accept. Chard nodded to the spear-wielding soldiers who watched carefully as he entered the structure. Protection, yes. But no doubt the Zora wanted to keep a close eye on these foreigners as well.

Alfons immediately dropped into a chair, dumping all his documents from a leather binder onto a ledge that had been sculpted out of the smooth stone walls. “Tricky things, treaties,” he said cheerfully. He picked up a pen and began to scribble down notes. “It’s really no more than finding the right angle to pitch your proposals. But I’m feeling confident about this. The fact we were allowed an audience is already half the battle.”

His optimism was admirable. As far as Chard had observed, the meeting had been a bust. He chose not to make any comment and excused himself to find Link.

The Zora children had returned and were playing around the Fountain of Welcoming. Chard could already hear their shouts and splashing as he made his way round the curving staircase. Some of them even attempted swimming up the falls that cascaded over the rim of the basin. Link, of course, was incapable of this. Instead, he chased the others in his bare feet through the shallows. Chard saw that the snail had been exchanged for a long tree branch.

Bazz sprang out from behind the fountain, brandishing a branch of his own. “Halt!” he cried. “Who goes there?”

Link stopped. “Me. Link.”

“We’re playing knights. You’re supposed to say Sir Link of Hyrule.”

“But… no shields?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bazz waved the stick. “We have swords.”

“Knights have shields.”

Bazz rolled his eyes. “Maybe in Hyrule. But you don’t need one here.” He struck a pose. “Now face me. For the pride of the Zora!”

Chard leaned over the stair railing to observe. Link shuffled his feet in the water. He bent his knees and widened his stance, drawing a line across the surface of the pool with the tip of his branch. Chard watched the shift in his expression, the wide-eyed wonder hardening to concentration.

Bazz jumped forward, jabbing the air. Link scooted back, sending up a spray of water from around his legs. His branch blurred into an arc that sent droplets flying as it met its opponent’s strike with a defiant _THWACK_. Bazz looked shaken. Link stared back with unprecedented ferocity. He took advantage of the taller boy’s hesitation to disarm him with a quick twist of the wrist. Bazz toppled into the water, scattering the other Zora children who squealed and splashed him back. He sat up at once and studied Link carefully.

“You’re really good!” he finally declared. Link was pink with pleasure.

Bazz threw up a salute once he noticed Chard. Link dropped his tree branch at once, running over to grab his father’s hand. The Zora children stopped their games to shout after him.

“Bye, Link!”

“See you, Link!”

“Bye-bye, Linny!”

Link waved cheerfully and allowed Chard to lead him up the stair. His clothes were still dripping, of course, and there was pond slime in his hair. A lotus leaf clung to the back of his neck. “Where are your shoes?” Chard asked him. Link shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find them later, then.”

Alfons had warned Chard of the dress code for Zora banquets, so Link’s lack of footwear was not a big concern. The boy enjoyed bathing in fresh lake water — as if he hadn’t been wet enough all day — but it was a challenge for Chard to wrestle him into formal clothes. Link sat on the edge of the bed and sulked until he saw his father emerge in the same outfit: white boots, white gloves, and royal blue tabard fitted over a maroon tunic, the Hylian wingcrest emblazoned across the chest.

Chard felt it odd to be wearing the royal guard uniform when he had never actually served at the castle. Alfons assured him that it was only right, and the look was ever so dashing. “On you both,” he said, smiling at Link. “I must say that our smallest knight looks every inch the hero!”

They saw and heard the banquet even as they were still walking down from the dam. Zora’s Domain pulsated with light. There was the natural blue glow of its walls mixed with the brighter shine from lanterns that hung down from the carved, curling roofs. Throngs of Zora filled the platforms, their gems and silver jewellery glinting here and there. And above them, surveying its watery kingdom, was the great radiant canopy of King Dorephan’s throne room, the great stone fish spreading its fins in triumph.

Alfons clapped his hands briskly after they had crossed the walkway into the banquet proper. “Alright, then. Time to make some good impressions. Never underestimate the power of the populace, men. Remember, we represent the kingdom!” He strode off, his smile set to blazing.

Link stayed close. The grandeur of it all seemed to intimidate him. He was interested in the food, but not much else. Even when one or two of his little friends called out to him, he remained by Chard’s side instead of running off to play.

“I wanna go back,” he whispered after an hour of being shunted around the crowded platform. “So busy.”

Chard didn’t think leaving the banquet early would make for a good impression, as Alfons had directed. The lowest level was marginally calmer than the upper floors, so he led Link down towards the Fountain of Welcoming. The party spilled out into the walkways to the alcoves and even along the Great Zora Bridge, where clusters of people congregated to converse, leaning their elbows on the railing with head tails bobbing. Link paused at the beginning of the bridge.

“Why is it so glowy?” he asked, touching a pillar.

“It’s made of luminous stone,” came a voice from behind them.

Chard turned. Standing before the fountain was Princess Mipha, flanked by attendants. The sapphires in her sash clinked softly against the delicate necklaces around her neck when she leaned down to smile at Link. “So we meet again! I hope you haven’t run into any more trouble.”

Link simply froze up, staring at the Zora princess in awe. Her words took a moment for Chard to digest. “Wait. Trouble?”

Mipha glanced over, her expression mild. “I found this little one caught in the currents of one of our waterfalls this afternoon. It was alarming in the moment, but we managed to make it back in almost no time. He’s quite strong, too! Only two cracked ribs and a few bruises.”

“Only…” Chard knelt and began to feel for these purported injuries. There were none.

“Don’t worry,” Mipha said. “They’re all gone. Though it looks like our reckless boy has managed to collect a few more.” She reached out and touched Link’s cheek. A small bruise had been hiding under his jaw. Chard watched in amazement when the Zora princess’s fingers suddenly shone with a silver light. Before his eyes, the bruise grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely.

Link’s mouth was a perfect circle. He reached up and grabbed Mipha’s hand without warning, pulling it to his eyes. She blinked in surprise, then melted into laughter. Even her stoic attendants broke into smiles. Link inspected every finger carefully.

“Is it magic?” he asked her.

She squeezed his hand. “Yes, sweet one.”

Link blushed. Chard bit his lip to stop himself from cracking up.

“Princess Mipha!”

They all glanced up to see Alfons sailing down the stair. He stopped beside Chard and bowed low. “Ambassador Alfons at your service, my lady. I am filled with pleasure to see that you have already met with my most capable companions. Captain Chard and young Link here represent Hyrule’s best.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Mipha responded gracefully. She smiled again. “Link, a very heroic name. Although I do see you lack a sword. In the future, no doubt.”

Alfons leaned in to seize the opportunity. “Ah, the future. Princess, I beg a question of you, the same I have been asking your fellow Zora all evening. What is your stance on that very thing, the future? Would you not believe that it is our duty as servants of the realm to safeguard its subjects against those that would harm it?”

Mipha’s voice rang out strong and clear, cutting through the buzz of background noise and causing nearby conversations to pause. “Absolutely. I would do anything to protect my loved ones.”

“Agreed,” Alfons said. “I have no doubts that you would lead the charge yourself, should Zora’s Domain be in danger. The lightscale trident is no child’s toy.”

“Not exactly.” Mipha stood. By now, a small audience had formed around them. Chard noticed some Zora were even leaning over the railing of the platform above to peer down at the show below them. Mipha held out her hand, and a silver glow appeared in her palm. “We Zora believe most firmly in defense. And I, in particular, have been blessed with the gift of healing. Saving and helping each other, that is the key to our prosperity.”

“A wise strategy. Keep your kin close to you, ensure their safety, and let others fend for themselves.”

Mipha was appalled. “No! That is not at all what I meant. My gift is only useful when shared with others. I will never hide it away from anyone who needs it, Zora or otherwise.”

Alfons smiled, glancing up at the great stone fish that housed King Dorephan’s throne room and the seats of the Zora council. Mipha followed his gaze with fierce and amber eyes. She turned back and studied the ambassador closely. Then, she laughed.

“You’re very clever, Ambassador,” she said. “This is why the elders mistrust you. But I see your point. We do share the same goals. Let this be my pledge to lend my help to Hyrule in whatever way I can.”

Alfons’s face split into an enormous grin. He swept his cape back in an elaborate bow, kneeling before the Zora princess and tenderly lifting her hand to kiss it. What a performance, Chard thought. He looked back at the platform above. The faces of the council glowered, but they couldn’t say a word as Zora all around them burst into applause. The air was filled with the clinking of precious metals and cheering as Alfons straightened and beamed back at them. Link, having been caught between the two for the entire charade, backed away from the noise into the legs of Princess Mipha, who patted him gently on the head.

“I hope that wasn’t too scary or embarrassing,” she said to him. “Shall I make it up to you?”

She turned to her attendants, whispering to one of them. They departed and returned with a chest, not unlike the one Alfons had brought with him. It was placed upon the floor and Mipha opened it before turning it around.

Nestled in a layer of velvet was a beautiful Zora short sword. It had a silver hilt wrapped in soft leather with stones of lapis and turquoise inlaid into the crossguard. A large pearl functioned as the pommel. The blade itself was a rod of gleaming white, though instead of a sharp edge it had a smooth and rounded tip. The finest and probably most expensive training tool Chard had ever seen.

“My own brother is still only a hatchling, so he won’t be big enough to wield it for several years yet,” Mipha said. “You may use it while you’re here, Link. After all, what is a knight without his sword?”

Link was already reaching for it. Then, he stopped.

It had been one of their rules ever since Link arrived in that mouldy basket from Faron. There were other toys he could choose from: model animals, cloth kites, even an ingenious wooden puzzle-box gifted by one of Chard’s older colleagues. Link had spent hours fiddling with the switches and slides. But weapons were forbidden. Chard couldn’t stop him from messing around with a stick, but he drew the line at swords.

Chard felt dozens of Zora gazes upon him as their princess encouraged his small son to pick one up. Link looked over, waiting for permission. Chard swallowed his feelings and nodded.

Alfons clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing and shaking it with unbridled delight. This evening had probably gone over far better than he had ever dreamed. “What a lucky boy! Of course, he’ll also have the best teacher available. There’s no harm in starting them young.”

A daring statement to make, but Chard didn’t have the energy or desire to challenge it. He bent down and helped Link attach the silver sword to the strap across his back. He knew that this would have happened eventually, but he had assumed they had time… now here Link was, barely old enough for school but already armed and in uniform.

Hours passed, with celebrations and revelries carrying long into the night. It was midnight before Alfons allowed Chard to bring Link back to their lodgings. Once they had crossed the walkway and left the crowds, Link unsheathed his new sword. He swung it at leaves trembling on bushes and held it up to show squirrels in the branches above, who scurried away from the bright glitter of the hilt.

He was reluctant to put it down even as Chard wriggled him out of his clothes. “Put that away.” Chard plucked the training sword out of Link’s hands. “We don’t sleep with our weapons, for Hylia’s sake.”

Link pouted. “But I like it.”

“Then treat it with the respect you would for a real sword.” Chard gave it back to him, and watched as Link leaned the short little blade beside the big broadsword against the wall with the utmost care. His boy hurried back up to the bed, scurrying up and wobbling slightly on the mattress. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“You’ve had a very good day,” Chard said to him. Link nodded eagerly and climbed into his lap.

“Will you train me?” he asked.

Chard placed his hand upon his son’s head. He let his fingers brush through the wheat-coloured hair, tracing lines down Link’s scalp down to the back of his ear. “I will,” he said.

Link’s smile was the sincerest thanks. He snuggled up against his father’s chest, satisfaction and fatigue closing his eyes. Chard listened as his son’s breathing soon matched the gentle lapping of the reservoir’s waters against the platform, reflected silver beneath the round moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I should have learned from before: I am incapable of setting anything in Zora’s Domain that won’t need several thousand words to get through. It’s… it’s just a real pretty place with lots and lots of drama!  
> 2\. When I first arrived to that random bed in at the top of East Lake Reservoir, I ran around it a few times all like, “?!?!!!!?! Who sleeps here?! Since Zora sleep in pools, it must have been made for a specific reason...” (I know the game is just telling you to rest up before taking on Ruta but otherwise, ?!?!??!?)  
> Now I’m thinking about it, I should have put Zelda and Link there when they visited Mipha in HYD. But eh, that fic’s done. =P  
> 3\. I usually do my best to comply with canon, but will eschew it for creative purposes when needed. And Mipha’s Diary always gets the most brutal dismembering. This time, I’m ignoring Link’s precocious swordsmanship in regards to actual swords. Don’t get me wrong — he’s definitely a prodigy. But… he’s also FOUR. I work with young children daily and lemme tell ya, even the six year olds struggle to use a stapler. So it’s very hard to believe that an even smaller child can easily manipulate huge hulking instruments of death and destruction in which its heavy weight is directly incorporated into how it is used. Like… let him develop some muscle first? No wonder he’s so short!!  
>   
> Thank you for reading these nitpicky notes, by the way. They are absolutely unnecessary for anything at all.


	3. Part Three

When Link was seven, the Queen passed away.

It came as a great shock to all. The King might be in charge of the military and foreign affairs, but the Queen was the spiritual and cultural leader for her people, a descendant of the Goddess herself. She was the heart of Hyrule. Castle Town was draped in mourning for many days. Banners went black, the streets were hushed, and hundreds of flowers lined the bridge to the castle itself, peppered with notes of sadness and well wishes for the young princess.

As a Captain in the Town Guard, Chard was required to attend the funeral for the late Queen. Hyrule Cathedral was stifled with people. He stood with Damen and Link in the aisles with the other soldiers, watching as the nobility in the pews shuffled and sniffled to the recitations droning on and on. The Sheikah, of course, were there, in robes of stark white. They spent the ceremony kneeling on the floor with their heads bowed in meditation no matter which ritual was being performed. The delegation from Gerudo stood along the other side of the nave. They had covered their shining armour with dark cloths that hung down to their ankles and bound scarves around their bright red hair. Chard was unsure whether this was Gerudo tradition or to respect the customs of Hyrulean mourning, but the effect was there. There were no representatives from the Rito or Zora, though the former had sent a wreath of wildflowers with a feather from each of their elders woven into the branches to symbolise their solidarity, and the latter a beautiful memorial plate carved with the Queen’s likeness, the Triforce inlaid with gold upon the back of her right hand.

Speaking of Zora’s Domain, Chard spotted Lord Alfons in the third pew, clutching a handkerchief to a moustache already damp with tears. The ambassador would have quite the negotiation to deal with this summer, considering that the Queen’s connection to her holy powers was the strongest factor of their treaty. Alfons had continued to request him for his guard whenever he made his journey, and Chard had accepted each time. Link looked forward to returning to Lanayru every year, so he had been loath to give up the position.

He looked down at Link, who watched the ceremony around him carefully. His eyes roved over the rows of sighing mourners. The dripping wax candles were dim compared to the stained-glass windows set into the stone behind them. They blazed depictions of the Golden Goddesses and heroic scenes from bygone eras. At the very front was the largest window of all, Hylia herself in all her glory with her sacred sword held skyward in one hand and the Triforce burning in the other. The sunshine streaming from her dress added some much needed light into the heavy mood of the cathedral.

But Link paid her no attention. “Father,” he whispered, “who is that? ”

Chard looked over. There was the King in a flowing doublet of black velvet. He wore no chains of office, no insignias, not even his crown as a display of his grief. He bent his bare head. Blue and white flowers were gathered on the late Queen's chest, held down by gloved hands that would never move again. Link had his eyes on a young girl who stood by the casket and stared into it. She could not be any older than him. Her skin looked unnaturally pale against her sable gown. She followed her father’s example by wearing braids, not a diadem, to hold back her long yellow hair.

“That is the princess.”

Link studied her. “So the Queen is her mother.”

“She was, yes.”

Link’s eyes lowered to the floor. Chard put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer. The King and the princess stood apart from one another, the lonely length of the Queen’s casket between them.

Princess Zelda did not move a muscle for the rest of the ceremony. The King managed to hold on until nearly the end, when the lid slid over his beloved for the final time. He buried his face into his hands, shaking. But the tiny princess continued her stiff vigil, eyes dry as pallbearers took her mother’s body away. Chard marvelled, with no small amount of pity, at how well she managed to maintain her composure. Surely, the mask would crack once the crowds disappeared.

The entire event seemed to have a profound effect on Link. He didn’t speak even as the doors opened and the guests filed out quietly. The princess trailed a few paces behind her father looking very small and alone. Link was just as silent afterward, even when they marched with the other soldiers back to the Watchtower barracks. In the room they shared together, Link sat on the edge of their bed and pondered what he’d seen while Chard began to change out of his formal uniform into the more practical dressings of mail and greaves.

“Is my mother dead too?”

Chard dropped his arm guard. It clattered loudly upon the stone tile floor. Link leaned down, picked it up, and handed it back to him.

“I don’t know, son.”

“Why? Where is she?”

“I just… don’t know,” Chard admitted. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her.”

Link’s eyes drifted away. He didn’t respond, kicking his feet in a steady rhythm against the mattress. Chard listened to the soft sounds of straw crinkling as he continued assembling his armour. Neither spoke for several minutes, lost to their own thoughts until Chard couldn’t bear it anymore.

“Does that bother you?” he asked.

Link’s legs paused. “Huh?”

Chard turned around. “Do you want to know more about her?”

Link stared at the wall with his eyebrows furrowed. “No,” he eventually said, and resumed his mindless kicking.

Chard didn’t know what to say, or think. “Why not?”

Link shrugged. “I don’t know her,” he said. “So I don’t miss her. I don’t really care. I like that it’s only us.”

A silence descended upon the room. Link looked back up at him. Training and play had stripped the last of his baby fat years ago, but he still had that gaze of wonder, those eyes so big and blue and round. The tunic he wore was slightly too large for him, as it had been borrowed for the occasion, but its dark and sombre hues seemed appropriate for the serious expression that graced his features.

Chard barely remembered what she looked like — it had been eight years, after all. But staring into his son’s face, he only saw himself reflected back. Link was his and his alone. The conversation he’d always dreaded wouldn’t even happen, and the details he had always been worried that didn’t know could finally disappear into the depths of time. He almost felt guilty for that selfish thought.

Link didn’t seem to realise just how potent his words were. He hopped down from the bed. “Can I go see Speckle?” he asked eagerly.

It was the name he had given to his favourite horse down at the Watchtower carriage house. Link loved to pat the spots on its flanks, whispering his deepest secrets — if a seven-year-old even had any secrets — into its twitching ears. He wasn’t quite big enough to begin solo horseback training yet but was always delighted to share the saddle with his father, burying his fists in the mane and blinking against the wind that whipped his face as they raced across the Romani plains.

“Yes. You may.” Chard remembered something. “But change first. We need to return those clothes to Commander Damen.”

Link grinned, banishing the shadows from the room. He ran to their chest and pushed it open, digging out his usual shirt and trying to pull off the tunic at the same time. Chard went over to help him. Link giggled when they forgot to unbutton the collar and it caught under one ear. Chard had to smile, too.

When they were both back in their regular clothes and ready to face the day, Chard opened the door. He expected Link to speed off towards the stairs, but instead his son suddenly turned around and threw himself around his middle. Chard even stumbled backwards at such force.

“I love you,” Link said.

Chard couldn’t move. He was in an awkward pose, with one arm still holding the door open and the other half-reaching for his sword. “And I you,” he managed to choke out.

Link smiled and released him before running down the corridor. He skipped over the lines of light from the arrow slits without a single glance backwards.

It took Chard a few moments to breathe properly again. He slowly strapped on his sword, and he pulled a helm over his eyes. Nobody was in the corridor, but he didn’t want anyone to see.

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, but he thanked Hylia all the same.

* * *

When Link was ten, he was growing fast.

Like a weed, his grandmother had once said. Though Chard wasn’t keen on comparing his son to what was essentially plant vermin, he had to admit that it was an  accurate idiom. Hours in the sunny yard or on his horse had browned Link’s skin, making the blue of his eyes stand out even more boldly. His hair grew too, long and uneven with wisps of sandy blond sideburns framing his face. Cuts and bruises freckled his limbs, but this was only normal for any knight in training.

He had already developed notoriety amongst the soldiers as a fearsome fighter. Grown men considered him a worthy training opponent as they practised in the yard. He was a beast with a bow, dangerous with a spear, and absolutely unstoppable with any type of sword in his hands. There was only one person left who always bested him in single combat, and many insisted it was only because Link was reluctant to raise a weapon against his own father.

Not that he had many chances to. Chard could barely afford time in the training yard now. There was simply too much going on with the Calamity efforts. Large-scale excavations were underway in Hebra, Gerudo, Eldin and Lanayru to dig up enormous machines buried in the snow, sand, rock and rivers. Hylian historians and Sheikah scientists had been able to piece together some information from records that these came from an ancient era in Hyrule’s history, coinciding with the last time their greatest enemy had attacked… the King had ordered researchers to continue studying the relics, which required more embassies to the other nations, who then wanted scouts and bodyguards to accompany them. The farther-flung outposts needed to be shored up and restored to better conditions in order to house these envoys. While Damen was away inspecting them, he’d appointed Chard as acting commander — which mainly meant taking over the frightening pile of paperwork left on his desk. There were assignments to sign off and budgets to draw up. Chard felt like a glorified clerk.

He was filling out yet another pile of tedious forms when there was a knock on the door. Chard pushed his chair back and rubbed his eyes. “It’s unlocked.”

The door flew open and smacked the wall with such force, the latches rattled. A man strode in. He wore a finely tailored tunic with a matching hat, and a cloak billowed behind him as he turned on his heel to face Chard, who immediately took note of the coat of arms hanging off a silver chain round his neck. But no sword or shield. An esteemed member from a noble household who had never gained knighthood…

“I demand an explanation for this!” the steward shouted.

He gestured aggressively behind him. Chard watched as a youth sidled into view with great reluctance. He looked to be in his mid-teens, with a mop of curly hair falling around his pointed ears. Unlike his minder, he was fitted in armour, albeit one of thick padded leather instead of plate. Absurdly, he had a Hylian shield upon his back, most likely a family heirloom. But what was most striking was his face. This boy had been beaten badly. His lip was split open, and bruises bloomed along one side of his face. They were already darkening to a deep plum and caused his cheeks to puff up like a cucco’s crest.

Chard blinked in surprise while the steward banged his fist upon the table. “We were under the impression that the young master would be able to learn the ways of the sword in a safe and properly equipped environment. But he returns looking like this!”

Chard got up to inspect these injuries. To his credit, the youth didn’t complain, only wincing slightly whilst he was poked and prodded. Chard silently took note of each bruise and scrape. Most of them were accumulated around the hip and shoulder area, with a few ribcage hits. These were the traditional locations young squires were told to aim for during sword practice. Whoever had administered these wounds knew what they were doing. There were no cuts or open wounds like a true edge would have made.

The young man was clutching his left arm. He let out a gasp when Chard felt it carefully. “Get this in a splint,” Chard told him. “I suspect a fracture.”

The steward was aghast. “It’s broken?!” He stepped towards his charge, who shied away.

“Fractured, not broken.” Chard stepped back. “Which is on par with training procedures, I have afraid to say.”

The steward turned on him. “What kind of place are you running, sir? To allow our future men to be beaten like this, what does it teach? We were under the assumption that all exercises would be monitored closely by trained knights.”

“You are correct.” Chard turned towards the squire, who was not meeting anyone’s eye. “Who was the soldier who supervised your session?”

“…Nobody, sir.”

“That is explicitly against our rules here at the Watchtower.” Chard folded his arms, sympathy fading. “Then who was it you sparred with?”

The squire hesitated.

“Well?” The steward was besides himself. “Tell him!”

“I… I don’t know, sir.”

“Impossible!” The steward stewed. “We’ll find him, young master. We’ll search this entire place for the miscreant and justice shall be dealt!”

“Wait.” Chard turned the squire’s shoulder and stared him down. Fear, shame, and most of all, remorse was written upon his face. There was much more to this than overzealous training, but it was clear that all he wanted was to forget about the matter. Chard could provide him with an out. “Do you want to pursue this any further?”

Only he saw the relief in the boy’s eyes. “No, sir.”

“What!”

“You’re perfectly within your rights to,” Chard reminded him. “And they will be rightfully punished. I promise.”

“No, sir. I mean, I know, sir. But I don’t want to.”

“Very well, then.”

The steward scowled as Chard opened the door for them. “My lord will certainly be hearing about this. Even the Commander’s pet won’t be spared of his ire if it chooses to start a few messes in the kennel.”

An overwrought and empty threat — Chard knew that the boy would insist on keeping this out of the public eye. He even would have laughed, but another glance at that swollen jaw killed any humour in the situation. “As I said, if he cannot name the instigator, there’s nothing more I can do. My apologies.”

He waited until they had left the corridor, if not the Watchtower entirely. Chard stuck his head out of the office and grabbed the first soldier walking by. “Find Link. Now.” As his messenger hurried off, Chard leaned against the table, rubbing his temples.

It only took a few minutes before the door opened. Link walked in. Chard read the signs: a smudge of dirt across his cheek, stringy clumps of sweat-soaked hair hanging out of the barely-there ponytail, and most ostentatiously of all, a wooden broadsword nearly the same height as he dragged carelessly along the floor behind him. Link came to stand before Chard, eyes bright with curiosity.

Chard nodded to the training sword. “Put that down.”

Link let it fall with a soft clatter against the edge of the desk.

“I’ve just sent a bloodied squire to set his arm,” Chard said. “He won’t be able to move it for a month. Know anything about that?”

Link’s expression hardened. He lifted his chin and pressed his lips together into a thin line. One couldn’t lie when one didn’t talk. Chard didn’t flinch either, continuing to stare him down. It was several moments before Link caved.

“He thought I was a page,” he said. “And told me polish his shield. I told him it wasn’t his. Shields are for royal knights. He got angry when I said that and said at least he was going to be one. He kept on following me and saying how easily he could beat me in a fight, so…”

They both looked at the sword. It was weathered and blunt, lengths taken to remove its deadlier qualities. But in the right hands, plenty of damage could still be dealt. Here was ample proof.

Chard exhaled. “So you won the fight. But you’ve lost everything else.”

Link frowned, uncomprehending. Chard counted off on his fingers.

“First of all, the training yard is for training. These are not to be real fights. We have rules that you are fully aware of, and you broke them regardless. So you’ve lost your intention.

“Second, if a fool strikes low, don’t get on your knees and join him. It’s the fault of no one but you to take the bait. You let your ego drive you instead of thinking about it rationally, losing your temper like a dumb beast. So you’ve lost your control.

“Third, if you knew you could beat him, why did you bother? Who did you need to prove this to? Does it matter what some conceited lordling believes? I don’t care what he said — was he able to fight back? Did you give him a sword as well?”

Link was stone. “No.”

“I’m sure you’re very proud of your assault on a helpless individual.” He couldn’t keep the contempt out of his voice any longer. “So finally, you’ve lost your honour.”

“But—”

“It is your fault.”

Link glared at the floor, his arms trembling with childish rage. Chard allowed him a few moments to stew, watching Link’s fists clench and unclench.

“Do you want to be a knight?”

“Yes,” Link said immediately.

“Then get rid of this ridiculous attitude. If you want this shield, you’ll have to remember your duties, control your emotions, and think about the people you claim to protect. Decide: do you represent Hyrule or yourself?”

Link was looking at him in a way he had never done before. Anger, disbelief, hurt, and… distrust. It pierced through Chard’s chest, though he took great care not to change the expression on his face. He’d never had to be this harsh on Link before. But he knew what could happen to bright young boys who gained skill and admiration and other prizes with too much ease. He remembered.

“You’ll write a letter of apology to the squire,” Chard said. “Which will be looked over before it’s sent. And if you resemble a page that much, then perhaps it’s a sign that you could use some practice. You’ll wait on Captain Orcas until further notice. He’s getting on in years and could use some help.”

Link was visibly struggling to keep his voice level. “Yes, sir.”

“Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Link bolted out of the room, kicking the door on his way out. Chard watched as it slowly creaked shut, the squeaking hinge emitting a noise like the last gasp of some wretched creature. Soon, he was left alone in the silent room with only his aching heart and this Goddess-forsaken paperwork for company.

He rubbed his forehead again. Link was growing. Things would change and never return to what they were before. He had to accept that.

* * *

When Link was twelve, they took their final journey together to Zora’s Domain.

Relations between the two nations had been fraught for some time now. Alfons had spent the better part of the past five years placating the Zora council in the absence of the Queen. With no news from the royal family themselves, he had diverted the attention towards the Sheikah researchers who now came along with them each summer to Lanayru in order to continue their investigations of the technologies that had lain submerged for millennia. Chard had accompanied them a few times to their archaeology site. The massive machine with its great legs, wide ears, and long trunk lay on its side upon the grassy riverbank. The Sheikah were carefully extracting its insides of mud and ancient parts preserved in varying conditions. Some still glowed with energy.

Ultimately, Alfons could not continue the charade. Once the Zora council discovered that Hylia’s powers remained untapped, they withdrew the terms of the treaty and asked politely, though also rather coldly, for them to leave Zora’s Domain for good. Chard withheld this information from Link. It would not do to learn that his second home had turned hostile against him.

“Just admit it, Linny!” A young Zora girl scowled at Link, her gills quivering in irritation. “You like Mipha more than me.”

“I like you both.” Link now stood taller than his Zora friends. He kept his back straight but voice calm. “You’re my friends.”

“You know what I mean!”

Link scratched his nose awkwardly. For the most part, he still resembled the boy that he was. His hair was still mainly a mess kept tied back, and despite the growth spurt he remained a head shorter than other Hylians. But in other ways, he was maturing into manhood. Gone were the bright smiles and sweet innocence. Gone was the foolhardy swagger and unearned confidence. Link had become more solemn and thoughtful after that fateful day in the training yard. He chose to listen before speaking and observe before acting. Chard was very proud of him, though occasionally he missed the antics of the wild child who scaled the walls of the Watchtower.

“Bye, Kodah.” Link turned from the girl, whose head fins flapped as she pretended to look away and ignore him. He walked over to join Chard and Alfons at the Fountain of Welcoming. The irony was not lost upon Chard.

Princess Mipha saw them to the Great Zora Bridge. “My father the King bids you the fondest of farewells,” she said. “And it is with a heavy heart that he must heed the desires of his people.”

“Of course,” Alfons replied. “As he ought.” But even his moustache looked despondent, drooping a little in the spray of the falls.

“Please do not think that we are severing all ties.” Mipha clasped his hand earnestly. “The excavation of the ancient beast is going well. We encourage the researchers to stay and continue their noble work. Zora’s Domain will remain friends with Hyrule, but at a distance.”

She thanked Chard for his service before turning all her attention upon Link. Mipha glowed with pride as she put her hands on his shoulders. “Oh, Link. It’s been such a privilege to have watched you grow up. I have no doubt that the next time we meet, you’ll be a dashing knight just like your father. Until then!”

She embraced him tightly before the Zora guards escorted them to the end of the bridge. Chard didn’t stop Link from glancing back at the beautiful city one last time before it disappeared behind the cliffs.

“Well, that’s that,” Alfons said heavily. “The embassy is no more.”

When they returned to Castle Town, Link resumed his training with the Watchtower Guard. It didn’t even take a year before the master of arms pulled Chard over to explain that there was absolutely nothing left he could teach the boy. Though he now exercised caution and care, Link’s prowess in combat had never diminished. Strangers might be fooled by his short, lean frame with its lack of visible muscle, but 13-year-old Link was besting the soldiers quickly and easily each day.

“I would say it’s time,” the man told Chard. “He can handle it.”

It was unheard of for a boy still in the throes of adolescence to be shipped off to the Military Training Camp, but that was the next logical step. Link would learn the drills, ceremonies, and equipment of the army. He’d see the world on expeditions to other provinces, forge friendships with his fellow comrades, and earn his right to be a soldier of Hyrule.

But this also meant that Chard would not see him for months at a time.

He could barely process this thought until the day came. He leaned against the carriage house wall and watched as his son prepared for his ride to Great Hyrule Forest. Link’s movements were swift, accurate, mechanical as he saddled the horse and attached his very few belongings. It was over too soon. Link slowly turned around, and Chard could see apprehension in his eyes. He wanted to assure him that there was nothing to be nervous about, that he would excel in everything he tried his hand at, that he was proud of him…

“I’ll see you next season,” Chard said.

“Okay,” Link said.

Father and son regarded each other for a minute. Chard could have held him, kissed him, or given him more words of encouragement for the tough road ahead. But instead, he opened a hand towards the horse. Link stepped into it and hoisted himself up into the saddle.

He looked down at his father one more time before the horse began to move. Chard watched as his only son disappeared around the buildings of Castle Town. For the first time in over a decade, he was alone.

Chard walked back into the Watchtower and headed directly to the Commander’s office. His old friend looked up from his desk when Chard stepped inside and closed the door.

“Is he gone?” Damen asked.

Chard nodded. Damen smiled sadly. “He’ll do very well.”

“I know.” Chard glanced round at the assortment of papers, armour, and banners around the room. “And now there’s no reason to keep staying here.”

Damen blinked, but then the light dawned. “Castle?”

“Yes.”

“About time.” Damen stood and walked over to him. Chard extended his hand, but Damen grabbed it and pulled him into a hug. “Torril has been hinting that he’d like a promotion. But once I tell him whose boots he’s filling, I may start hearing a different tune.”

Chard swallowed. “Let him have them.”

Damen had a final question as Chard placed his hand on the doorknob. “Wait. Do you need anything before you go?”

“Just one.”

Chard went up the stairs to the old room. Here was home for over ten years. He was struck at how small and empty it seemed, especially without Link’s presence to fill it properly. None of his personal effects remained: gear brought with him to the camp, and his childhood toys long given away to others. There was only one thing left to take.

Once again, Chard slung the Hylian shield across his back. Then he turned north and headed for Hyrule Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I fully acknowledge that this fic is also kind of an excuse to continue worldbuilding and developing all my cultural headcanons about the different nations in Hyrule.  
> 2\. This part as a whole was a little difficult because I had to go back and check HYD to make sure events match up... cursing my past self for deciding on a thing that I now want to change ;P ~~Then going with it anyway, forcing myself to jump into the previous fic to make some minor tweaks.~~ It's what you get for making up stuff as you go along!  
>  3\. There is no better way to learn to be humble than being brutally humbled. I feel Link actually does have a very dangerous propensity for arrogance due to his natural skill. His humility is something he puts a great deal of thought and effort into, and here we see who instills that value in him.


	4. Part Four

When Link was fourteen, Chard was given yet another promotion.

He had spent the past year in the castle garrison. For all the glory and pomp surrounding the royal knighthood, it was, yet again, a little underwhelming. The castle was a mighty fortification unto itself, carved right out of a mountain and towering over the town. One would have to be mad to attack it. There was little action for a soldier perched upon the parapets save for admiring the beautiful vistas provided from such a height. Chard preferred — if he had to make a preference at all — to spend his shifts at the northern wall where the verdant canopy of Great Hyrule Forest could be seen. One of the ancient trees was in constant flower even when it wasn’t spring, pale pink petals scattering in the breezes that swept across the treetops. He could even see the Military Training Camp’s banners fluttering even further east of here.

Despite all this beauty, Chard was eager for real work. Whenever possible, he volunteered for the jobs beyond sentry duty and goods inspection. He assisted with the training sessions in the courtyard, made harsher and stricter with the impending arrival of the Calamity. His strength and accuracy quickly catapulted him to a position of respect and admiration amongst the other men.

There were also nobles to greet and escort whenever they came to see the King. Chard quickly learned the names and faces of certain regulars to the castle. One was a young woman in her mid-20s. She had a serene, serious face shrouded in shadow under her wide brimmed hat. The blood-red tattoo on her forehead creased whenever she narrowed her eyes. Though short and slender in stature, her words brought silence to a room, wisdom only matched by wit. Nobody underestimated Lady Impa of the Sheikah Tribe.

She visited very frequently. Researchers came along with her to investigate the castle’s foundations, having found record of an ancient army buried beneath it. Chard often found himself placed on duty beneath the library where they painstakingly chipped away at stone and metal objects that had been enveloped by the earth over the centuries. It was not unlike the excavation site in Lanayru.

Rumour had it that the castle housed other secrets, such as the fabled sword that sealed the darkness. A dangerous trial of courage lay entombed with it. Chard didn’t care whether this was true or not. He knew he wasn’t a hero, and had no wishes to be.

Even so, his reputation grew. Soon, he was placed in the King’s Guard itself. King Rhoam was a busy and ambitious man who had his hands full. He cut an imposing figure in court with his towering height, broad shoulders and flowing beard, but grew affable and warm in person. This duality of his, from fierce to fatherly, made loyal men of his knights. Chard included.

One day, Chard received a summons during morning training. The other soldiers whispered to each other while he dropped the quarterstaff and wiped his face of sweat. The attendant led him to the south side of the castle. Chard straightened his tunic before knocking upon the door. It opened. Impa stared at him, blinking once or twice before stepping back to allow him entrance. “He’s arrived.”

Chard walked inside. It was a very small room, more like a study, with nothing more than a table and a few chairs around it. Nobody was sitting, for it was only Chard, Impa, and King Rhoam himself. The King turned from where he had been gazing out the window and nodded. Even now, the ruby set into the crown upon his head shone like fire in the morning light. Chard knelt as was expected of him.

“Rise,” the King said. He walked round the table. There was a map of Hyrule Kingdom and the surrounding countries spread out upon it. There were rivers of ink flowing down to the oceans, the bold strokes of sketched mountains, and names of the various plains and forests written in graceful script.

“Good timing, Sir Chard,” the King said. His voice was deep and calm. “We have been in debate for over an hour now. Perhaps your opinion will help us decide.” He gestured to the map. “The core of the kingdom, Hyrule Field, is a large and mostly level plain. This has been a boon for us for centuries as our people have always had the space to spread out and make their homes. But it also poses danger to attacks from enemies since there is nowhere to hide. In the event we must retreat, how do you suppose we most effectively protect the civilians?”

Chard did not understand why he, of all people, was being asked this question, but one did not refuse the King. King Rhoam stepped out of the way so he could study the map better.

“You might say that the Kingdom has been — unintentionally or not — divided into three sections.” Chard pointed. “The north is more urban, with Castle Town and Mabe Village. Whereas the southern portion is more military-focused with two permanent garrisons and several outposts. Then, there are the farmlands and ranches between them.”

“So far, this set up is ideal. The borders are the ones most heavily defended, but remain at an acceptable distance to head inland if needed.” Chard hesitated. “Except, that’s also an easy way to trap everyone in.”

The King nodded. Chard picked up a pencil and began to draw lines. “The provinces directly under the crown’s rule are Akkala, Faron, and Necluda. Necluda is the best option for the majority of the people. The Dueling Peaks and its surrounding highlands provide a natural defense. If even that is breached, they can move further east behind the protection of Fort Hateno.”

“The second option is Faron. The forests are thick and easy to lose enemies in. There is an abundance of resources to keep a larger population fed. And if absolutely necessary, access to the ocean will allow for another escape route.”

He glanced up when he was finished. Impa and King Rhoam looked at him, then turned to meet the other’s eyes. Both of them broke into wide smiles.

“A wise and thorough response.” For such praise to pass Lady Impa’s lips was rare. “He has my approval.”

Chard was nonplussed. The King laughed, full-throated and deep. “He did come highly recommended. Of course, Alfons has the tendency to exaggerate upon certain points, but Commander Damen had many positive things to say as well.” He swept up the map, rolling it tightly. “Take this to be copied and sent out to all outposts with the instruction that soldiers are to study these tactics and commit them to heart. It is now the official procedure.”

Impa accepted the map. “At once, my King.” She bowed and left the room.

Chard felt his face flush when King Rhoam clapped a hand on his shoulder and intoned, “I, Rhoam Bosphoramus, King and Lord Protector of Hyrule, appoint you Captain Chard of my personal guard. You will watch over my household and shield it from any enemy that threatens it harm. You will also provide me your counsel when asked for it, helping me serve the realm in the best way we can.”

This took a few seconds to sink in. “But Captain Vyme…?”

“He’s gone to command Akkala Citadel at my request. So naturally, there was a vacancy in his former position.” The King arched a single white eyebrow. “Do you accept, sir?”

There was no other answer he could give. “With many thanks, your Grace.”

“Then you begin now.” King Rhoam opened the door of the parlour, signalling for Chard to follow. They climbed many stairs towards the western portion of the castle, stopping before an ornate set of double doors. The King knocked twice, then turned the handle before receiving any reply.

They entered a spacious and comfortable bedroom. Its rounded walls were lined with bookcases, and a spiral stair reached up to a second level leading out to another tower. The Triforce decorated every window, banner, even the chairs and chests. A young girl was perched upon a plush chaise, her golden head bent over her hands. She had dug her fingernails into the cracks of a shining silver ball, attempting to pry it open.

“Zelda.” The King greeted his daughter in the same formal tones that he had applied to Impa. “This is Captain Chard.”

The princess jumped to her feet. Chard spied the glow of Sheikah blue before she hastily hid the object between the folds of her dress. He read the guilt flashing across her face as easily as a book, having seen the same expression on Link whenever Chard had returned to their old room and smelled toasted apples.

The King continued, “He shall assist us in overseeing the royal household and accompanying me personally on journeys abroad, especially with matters concerning the Calamity.”

Princess Zelda blinked at him with bright green eyes, then curtsied briefly. “Honoured to meet you, sir.” She covered the back of one hand, no doubt doing her best to continue hiding her treasure.

The King didn’t seem to notice. “If I am not available, report your training results to him and it will be relayed back to me. Where is your itinerary?”

Princess Zelda pointed at her desk. Once her father’s back was turned, she resumed her attack on the orb. It slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor. Chard and the princess watched it bounce upon the thick plush carpet that silenced its landing, rolling a considerable length before it stopped by his feet.

He picked it up. It was a very small ancient Sheikah core. He recognised it from all the times he’d watched the Sheikah sort their findings. Chard held the core out to the princess without a word. She stared up at him with undisguised apprehension, as if she believed that he would snatch it back and alert the King at any moment. Chard turned the core over in his fingers and gently pressed his thumb into the centre, like he had seen some Sheikah do. Princess Zelda’s eyes widened when she saw light seeping through the cracks as the core began to open up, and her desire to know what was within overcame her fear. She grabbed it from him immediately.

“Ah, yes.” King Rhoam strode back to them, oblivious to the exchange and holding a piece of paper. He handed it to Chard. “Though you need not worry too much over it, Captain, the princess does take leave of the castle on her pilgrimages. Unlocking the power of Hylia is of utmost importance for us, and it is her singular duty.”

The excitement that had filled Princess Zelda’s face faded at these words. She didn’t meet her father’s eyes again when he took his leave, her gaze upon the floor instead.

Castle life was no longer boring. Chard rose early each morning to join the King wherever he went: meetings, court, dinners, trips through and out of Castle Town. Furthermore, he spent time with him in the royal family’s personal quarters, discussing matters that had been raised throughout the day. The princess was a frequent presence, sitting beside her father at meals or running to him with requests that were usually turned down. Not unkindly, but very firmly.

The young Princess Zelda was often alone. Her white ceremonial dress made her look like a small, slight ghost as she walked down the winding corridors to and from the royal chapel. The King demanded that she offer her prayers to the Goddess every single day. When she finished, the princess changed back as quickly as possible and disappeared into the great castle’s depths to seek out her own pursuits. Most times, she could be found curled up in the library inhaling books or down at the excavation sites, tailing the researchers and asking a thousand questions. She did not seem to have many people she could call friends.

She did have a very busy itinerary — of which it was Chard’s job to keep track of — involving trips to Hyrule Cathedral, various temples, Gerudo Town and Kakariko Village. He always made sure he was present whenever her horse, a striking white stallion, carried her out of the gates. It gave him just as much relief to see her return through them.

Every time Chard saw Princess Zelda, he thought of Link. They were alike in some ways: age, and the fact that they had grown up without peers in the building they called home — Link at the Watchtower and the princess in her own castle. That was just about it, to be honest. Chard missed him so much. So he couldn’t help feeling sorry when he found her sneaking away from her training to go see the newest discovery from the Sheikah’s hard work: a complete, unbroken husk of one of the ancient machines with four of its six legs still attached. He forced himself to close his ears to her cries of protest as he escorted her back to the chapel, and kept his sympathy buried while she hunched over the altar and folded her hands again.

He became a witness to many of the royal father and daughter’s private moments. The week they were expecting several Rito envoys in a collaboration to improve their ranged tactics, he and the King went over security procedures for the final time at breakfast. Princess Zelda was there too, with an incredibly fat book open beside her bowl. Rice porridge dripped from her spoon while her tea went cold. Chard couldn’t resist thinking of how Link would have scalded his tongue on such food in the time it took her to swallow even one bite.

“We have suggested that they land between the gatehouses so there’s enough room to receive them formally, then scheduled some time before starting a training session in the northern archery range if they require rest from their flight. Their quarters will be in the eastern wing so they can access the range with ease.”

“Very good. Just a moment, Captain.” The King turned his attention away from the list. “Zelda. Are you eating the book or your breakfast? Close it, please.”

She looked up and scowled. Then, she lifted the heavier end of the book and let it fall onto the rest of the pages. _BANG!_ It rattled the cutlery and startled a server walking by with a pitcher. Milk splattered upon the floor. Chard said nothing as the King turned again, his face darkening.

“Important guests arrive soon. Zelda, if you cannot behave properly, we cannot have you there when we receive them.”

“Fine. Then don’t have me.”

King and princess glared at each other. Chard kept his eyes fixed on the paper before him.

“After you finish your prayers to the Goddess,” the King said quietly, “you are to resume your studies with your tutor. You will focus on the history and culture of the Rito so you will be prepared to greet them when you finally join us at supper. You are not allowed to go down to the library or the laboratory. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Princess Zelda mumbled. She scooped up the book and lugged it away, her bowl barely touched.

King Rhoam sighed heavily. “Do you have any children, Captain?”

“Yes, sir. A son. Fourteen.”

“Ah. Then I’m sure you understand.”

No, Chard thought. Link would never speak to him like that. He glanced up and saw the princess, her thin arms clutching the book to chest like it was armour, disappear behind the Dining Hall door. He wondered if Link had ever withheld something from him. If he had ever felt like hiding or rebelling. Chard couldn’t be sure anymore.

He wrenched his head and heart from the memories he kept on going back to and refocused on the King. “Yes, your Grace.”

* * *

When Link was sixteen, he returned to take on his knightly trial. He was the youngest ever to attempt it, and such news swept through the castle. By the time Chard arrived to watch the fight, there was already a significant audience crowded round the lockup bars.

Link stood just before the threshold, waiting to face his foe. His equipment was the standard fare of a foot soldier: broadsword, round shield, a bow and quiver. He didn’t wear any plate armour, just a layer of mail beneath his shirt. He took no notice of the muttering crowd behind him.

They had not spent nearly enough time together in the past three years. Distance, of course, was a factor, but even the rare, brief moments when Link returned to Castle Town were always cut painfully short. Chard could not take much time away from his service to the King, though he made a point of trying.

The last time had been four months ago. Link had been allowed to come home for an entire week, but Chard could only afford one night away from the castle. They met at one of the eateries off Central Square. It was a fine evening, twilight just about to give way to the deep dark of night. The Square was lively even as market vendors pulled down their awnings and people headed home. The sound of conversation and laughter spilled out of other restaurants that ringed the place. Flowers filled the air with their soft perfume. A man walked slowly around the large fountain, lighting the lanterns with a torch that made the flowing water glitter.

Link sat across from him. The sunburnt skin peeling off his nose and fresh scrapes across his knuckles were testaments of his travails abroad. His limbs were longer and leaner than ever. Emotions churned in Chard’s stomach. Many of these marks were unfamiliar and new. However, other quirks reassured him that yes, this was still his son. Link hadn’t stopped eating since the food arrived.

“Are you still posted in Eldin?”

Link nodded, his mouth full of rice.

“Anything new?”

Link shook his head.

“How are the Gorons doing?”

“Good.” Link bent his head again over his bowl so his fringe hung over his eyes. With every visit, he became more and more withdrawn. Unfailingly polite, but with barely a word to say. Link had never been a chatty child, but something about these years had taught him to shutter his face, hide those emotions, and lock up all of his thoughts. Chard had wondered, for the briefest moment, if perhaps he was the reason for Link’s silence — someone who’d been distant and inaccessible for so long that they didn’t even know how to interact anymore. It was a hurtful thought.

But now, Link had come home. Chard squeezed through the crowd, slipping into the small area between the trial chamber and the rest of the lockup. He stood quietly behind Link as not to distract him.

Another captain gave the signal. There was a screech of metal upon metal as the iron portcullis thudded down behind Link after he stepped inside. The circular room was bare save for dirt, dust, yellowed bones and an aged tablet of stone with worn words of instruction carved into it: _Strike down the giant foe to become recognised as a knight of the kingdom._ Simple.

Link unsheathed his sword as the skeleton upon the floor shook violently. The pieces skittered across the flagstone to connect with one another like magnets. Link stood his ground as the stalnox righted itself, grabbing its old skull and reattaching it upon its spine. A huge, dark eye rolled around the socket.

Chard watched with a tight chest as Link swiped at the enormous shin bones, dodging the fists plunging into the stone by a hair’s breadth. He pressed his lips together to prevent any whispered clues slipping out, even though there was too much commotion and noise for the words to reach Link. This trial was a solitary one. He would provide no help.

Finally, Link caught on. He snatched up his bow and let the arrow fly. The monster screamed, a supernatural sound from the depths of hell that shivered down everyone’s nerves as it clawed at its skinless face. Link staggered as the entire mass of bone smashed into the ground, but he wasted no time grasping his sword and hacking away at the bouncing, rolling, grotesque eyeball. He was rewarded when it shuddered and melted into miasma.

The lockup echoed with frenzied cheering as Chard’s son, still panting slightly, straightened up and turned around to see a chest awaiting him. He sank to his knees and unlocked it. The applause only became louder when Link pulled out a gleaming shield of blue and silver, adorned with the kingdom’s wingcrest in bold red strokes for all to see. There was the golden Triforce, announcing him as a man of courage. Link slowly traced it with one finger. He turned around and searched the faces that gawked at him through the lockup bars. His eyes finally found his father’s.

Then, Link smiled. It didn’t matter if this was the dingiest hole in the dungeons. There was the child who loved to play in the pools of Zora’s Domain. There was the boy who hugged the neck of his horse while it charged through the tall grasses of Hyrule Field. There was a newly knighted young man holding the Hylian shield that he had won upon his own merit towards his father, waiting for acknowledgment and approval. Chard knew, in that moment, that there wasn’t anything between them.

But before he could say anything, all conversation suddenly ceased. Link’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open in amazement. Chard turned and saw the King striding through the gates, his fine boots splashing in the stale puddles of the lockup without a worry. He nodded as all the Captains bowed.

“Well, well, well! That was a quality fight.” King Rhoam smiled at Link as he continued walking forward. Link, to Chard’s satisfaction, remembered his manners and knelt, though he still clutched the shield to his chest. “Rise, Sir…?”

“Link,” Link whispered.

The King’s laughter echoed through the dungeon. “Sir Link! Most fitting. With the Calamity nearly upon us, we’ll need every able-bodied man on our side.” He paused and peered at his face. “Though, there’s something…”

King Rhoam glanced back at Chard, then at Link again before his face split into yet another big grin. He sluung an arm around Link’s shoulder and steered the tongue-tied boy towards the exit. “It all makes sense now. Like father, like son! If anyone should doubt your place here, they need only to see the similarities.”

Damning words, though the good King had not realised it. Chard felt the shift in the crowd behind him, uneasy and full of questions. It didn’t matter that Link had shown, without any doubts, his amazing skill. They only saw the King, so oddly casual and indulgent, and the young knight, a spitting image of his old man – the Captain, whose career had climbed so quickly as well. There would be assumptions. There would be gossip. There would be attitudes and anger, if handled incorrectly.

Chard had to bite his cheek to prevent himself from apologising to Link. With everyone watching, he gave only a single, silent nod.

Link blinked. Only Chard recognised what the brief dart of his eyes back down to the hard-earned shield meant. Then, he could do nothing as a new mask, invisible and impenetrable and unreadable, slipped over Link’s face. Chard hoped he understood.

The King gave Link’s shoulder a final pat before withdrawing it. “Quality, indeed. Any now we all return to our duty.” His tone became businesslike once more. “Captain. With the Divine Beasts nearing full restoration, it is time to consider their use in the upcoming battle. No doubt that Zelda is trying to wiggle out of her training to go see them, but I’m sure Impa will keep her on task in Kakariko Village. And there, perhaps she can help us find…”

Chard had no choice but to follow his King. They walked away from the trial chamber together, pressing past the throngs of congratulators who moved to surround Link. Link, who was a knight now. He had forged his path there with bravery and honour – perhaps to pursue the steps of his father, and his father before him. But here were the hard truths about that path.

This is where father and son ended, and Captain and knight took over. Their relationship would never be the same again.

* * *

When Link was seventeen, the King brought Link to the hidden chamber beneath the castle, despite Chard’s protests.

He had been filled with anxiety for days. That old squirming snake of dread burrowed under his skin and made itself a restless home. It was the same awful energy that possessed him nearly two decades ago right before Link arrived into his life. It heralded fate at work, a fork down the path of life you never wished to take but found yourself committing to anyway.

Another change.

On that day, he had been in a particularly bad mood. He watched Link’s demonstration for the King actually praying that he would make a mistake. Of course, he didn’t. Such prayers were begging for miracles to happen. Most of the garrison bore witness to the quick work Link made of the test. It was watching a master in action — the fluidity of his stance between the two styles of combat, the clairvoyant way he could predict his opponent’s move, near-perfect hits every single time. He had only flourished under the castle’s shadow.

Chard knew he was failing miserably at hiding his misgivings as they followed the King down, down the depths of the castle through the twisting corridors. Link kept on glancing over, small tilts of the head as his brow creased with worry too. He had no idea what was in store for him, but Chard did. The King had been harbouring this fanciful notion for the past few days.

“No,” Chard had said in horror.

King Rhoam stroked his snowy beard and shrugged. “It was a very courageous act, one borne of pure instinct. And we have witnessed other triumphs at his hand before. Surely this portends to a powerful spirit inside of him, possibly bestowed by the Goddesses themselves.”

“He’s a boy,” Chard murmured.

“Come now, Captain. He has the shield, which makes him a man. You cannot decide his fate for him.”

So obviously, the King had been the one making that decision. Link’s eyes grew wider with every surprise thrown at him: the Hero of Time’s statue shifting to reveal the hidden entrance, the secret room blazing with colour, and the sword itself waiting for him. Even Chard was momentarily entranced by it. A tall and slender thing basking in the light of the seven sages that held vigil around it, no jewels or overwrought designs save for the winged crossguard. A hero’s weapon: the Master Sword.

Link went straight to it without being told. Before he could lay a hand upon its ancient hilt, he managed to stop himself and look back. Chard saw his round, blue eyes and seized one last chance.

“We have no proof he is the one,” he said to the King. “He has finished no trials. He's been knighted for less than a year. He... he’s young. He-”

“He has shown courage,” the King replied. “Courage he will need. And the sword is a trial in itself.”

No, it wasn’t. It was torture. Torture for Link. Chard saw it on his face, screwed up in pain as he pulled at the sword with all his strength. Torture for Chard, who heard a cry of anguish rip from his lungs as he prepared to sprint up the dais — before the King stopped him with a single sweep of his arm. King Rhoam stared at Chard with dark eyes flashing danger if he were to take any step further. He forced himself to hold back, nothing to do but stand rigid in fear for his son.

Then, it was over. Link turned around, bewildered and still trembling. He held the sword aloft in his fist. The ancient blade cast its holy glow over Chard, who sank to his knees in relief.

The King was exultant. “The sword has chosen! You should be proud of your son.”

For a split second, Chard wanted to throttle him. But instead, he looked away, and the King strode forth to embrace Link with gladness. He knew Link was worthy. There was none worthier. This was something set by the Goddesses above, spun from their fingers for centuries so Link could take up the identity he had been named for.

Chard managed to suck in a breath, filling his lungs with sharp, cold, sadness. He’d tried to live so much of his life to protect the one he loved, but it still came down to this.

Who knew what now lay in store?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look at that chapter count! Who's surprised, not me. I would VERY much like this fic to be done before ~~_September -- I do not think the final chapter will be as long as the others. Well, at least I hope it won't. Let's just see what goes on in the next two days._~~ buuuuuuuuuut that is definitely not going to happen, nope, you'll get the ending in a week per the usual. ;P
> 
> Thanks for bearing with, and I hope you're still enjoying the ride (which now includes one lonely, nerdy princess)!
> 
>  **Edited note:** Zelda is younger than Link by almost a year (but not quite). So when he's 14 she's 13, etc.


	5. Part Five

While Link had the sword, he was appointed by the King to protect Princess Zelda. He was to accompany her at all times as she searched for a way to unlock the sealing powers that were her birthright. The King even named him Champion of Hyrule and Captain of her guard.

It was some twisted irony, especially after all of Chard's efforts to avoid accusations of nepotism. He had done his best to keep Link at arm’s length from himself and the royal family... to no avail. But even with the promotion, Link remained the way he was before: quiet, uncomplaining, and deferent to his elders. This earned him the pleasure of King Rhoam, who was not accustomed to someone that age actually listening and following his orders.

Princess Zelda was less impressed. At sixteen, she was now expected to take on a larger role at court. During Link’s first year as a knight, she was absent from Castle Town for weeks at a time, attending the trials for the Divine Beasts and formally offering Championship to those who had proven their worth. Unlike the holy rituals, she took to these diplomatic duties with aplomb. Unfortunately, her triumphant return coincided with the discovery of Link as the bearer of the sword. No doubt she felt usurped, Chard had concluded, by the way she had scowled like a wet lynel and stomped back up the stairs.

They were a frequent sight around the castle. The princess, full of frowns, marched down the corridors with baleful glances over her shoulder at her stolid and stoic shadow. Link trailed a few feet behind with the Master Sword upon his back. Heads turned whenever he walked past, eyes and whispers filled with admiration. All this incensed Princess Zelda even more. The retainers of the castle soon came to recognise the sound of slamming doors as an announcement that the princess had just entered a room, and had most likely left her knight stranded outside of it.

Link, to his credit, endured it all — the King's praise, the princess's ire, and mindless gossip from everyone else — with silent dignity. Chard was concerned for him, but there was little he could do than provide some advice while they were alone in the archery range on a cool, quiet morning.

“The field and everything that comes with it is distracting by nature. Emotions, adrenaline, terrain… even your charge.” Chard handed Link his arrows. “None of that you can control. You are the only thing you can control. Make sure you are in control.”

Link looked up. His eyes reflected the sky above them, bright and cloudless. “I understand.”

Chard believed him. So when it was announced that the princess was to journey abroad to monitor her Champions and their Divine Beasts, he had been mildly optimistic. If nothing else, Link would enjoy the chance to stretch his legs and leave the city for a while. Chard stood above the ramparts and watched his son follow the princess’s white stallion down the roads and through the town gates. But in less than a week, an abandoned travel pack and Hylian shield were suddenly delivered to him from Rito Village. He was none too pleased.

It wasn’t long until they made their separate ways back to Hyrule Castle. Chard took the guilty teenagers down to the library for their sentences. While the King and the princess had one of their high volume debates behind the study’s decidedly non-soundproof silver doors, Chard faced Link. One glance told him most of the story. Link kept his eyes downcast and mouth set in a grimace. When given back his belongings, Link squeezed his hands around the shield’s hand holds so tightly that the knuckles went white.

Chard was glad that he would be able to keep this short. “Excuses?”

“No, sir.”

“Explanations?”

“No, sir.”

“Then you’re dismissed.”

Link turned on his heel and stalked away. Every muscle in his body was laced with relief, frustration, and determination.

Chard hadn’t expected him to take the issue so personally, but he had no time to ponder. The King was certain Calamity would fall upon Hyrule at any moment. He commissioned new gear and weapons for the guard, worked closely with the Sheikah to decipher scraps of ancient text for any useful insight about the enemy, and kept his information network close at hand. Chard was there with him every step of the way. He could not spare an eye to keep on Link and the princess, so the scene he came across a few weeks later had been completely unexpected.

Hyrule Kingdom was in the thick of summer. Days were long, allowing the sun to bake the stone walls of the castle keep until it felt hot enough to fry a bird's egg on. The soldiers on duty wiped their foreheads and fanned themselves with their caps. Nights brought the Castle Town residents out from their homes where they reveled in Central Square, staying close to the cooling waters of the fountain. The castle was just the same, with the waterfalls that flowed through the grounds making the heat bearable. Combined with the scent of the flowers that filled the beds, the gardens were a very pleasant place to spend the time.

One afternoon, Chard had decided to cut across them to get from one of the training sessions in the western courtyard to a meeting in the east wing when he heard a familiar voice.

“The world forged from Din’s hands was vast and lush, and Farore’s creations were perfectly suited for their given homes. They held the good spirit of Nayru in their hearts and thrived in the light. The Golden Goddesses, seeing only peace and harmony, returned to the heavens. The lands from where they descended came to be known as the Sacred Realm.”

He slowed his step. The lawn snaked out from around banks of blooms growing so thick that the grounds looked like they were sprouting small mountains of colour. Trees and carefully cultivated shrubbery blocked his view of a stone gazebo perched on the edge of the cliff. Chard had to walk around a cluster of birch before he saw them.

Like the first time he had met her, all that could be seen of Princess Zelda was the top of her head. The sun set her bright yellow hair ablaze, saying nothing of the golden diadem that held it back. She had one foot propped up on a flowerpot and encased within a cast made from gauze and resin, the result of a recent accident in the Gerudo Desert. A thick history book lay open upon her lap with a sea of royal blue skirt flowing out from beneath it. Link sat beside her, leaning forwards slightly with his elbows on his knees while he listened.

“For ages, the people lived at ease in mind and body. But soon, word of the Sacred Realm spread through Hyrule, and a great battle ensued... the Hyrulean Civil War. The tribes turned upon one another, alliances shattered and families divided. In the midst of all the chaos, Interlopers who excelled at magic appeared. Wielding powerful sorcery, they tried to establish dominion over the Sacred Realm.”

The princess ran a finger across the flowing script written on the page, most likely for Link to follow along. But he wasn’t looking at the book. He gazed intently at her face while she, oblivious, continued to read out loud to him. Link’s lips had parted in a dopey, disbelieving sort of way as he watched hers move to form her words. When she turned her head, Link’s eyes quickly flicked back down to the page before she could catch him staring.

It was nothing short of pure. Chard quietly withdrew from the scene, thankful for the soft grass silencing his footsteps.

He took better care to look out for the two of them from then on. It was the first time either of them actually had a peer, a playmate, a partner. Link looked far more comfortable than he ever did in uniform, wearing the blue tunic that matched his eyes, eyes that were always on the princess. She was no longer a furtive phantom floating along passageways alone. It was easy to hear Princess Zelda before seeing her, her voice spilling from open doorways telling Link all of her stories, studies, wishes and worries. They walked through the castle side by side, arguing about ancient technology and teasing each other. The princess did most of the arguing, Link had more of the laughs. That alone was worth it all.

It was the very last thing Chard had ever expected, and the only one in a long line of surprises that seemed for the better. The King said nothing of this development. Chard doubted that he had even noticed. Despite his protective and watchful nature, King Rhoam was not very astute when it came to his own child.

Chard let them be. They were good for each other. He even turned a blind eye when he caught them sneaking out of a state dinner, hand in hand, to steal a few moments unsupervised in the Observation Room. He had finished a perimeter check and was preparing to report back to the King when there was a burst of noise from the corridor. Chard already had a single foot upon the stair when a flash of yellow and blue nearly slammed into him.

Princess Zelda barely registered his presence, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. “Pardon,” she breathed before spinning around him, her arm pulling something along behind her. No, someone. Chard caught the split-second shifts of delight to shock to panic upon his son’s face before he stumbled on after the princess. They scurried up the stairs towards the wingcrest statue and up to the balcony where they could be alone.

Chard allowed himself a moment before he reentered the Dining Hall. Closing his eyes, he put his hands on his hips and had a quiet laugh on his own. Of course… the hero and the princess. Link and Zelda. Nobody could have prevented it even if they had tried. Chard straightened up, rearranged his face, and walked back in.

Most guests were standing now, having finished the meal. They huddled in clumps, holding their goblets and deep in conversation. The soldiers along the wall stood straighter as he passed, nervous under his watch. Hylian courtiers nodded at Chard politely, a few murmuring their thanks in his role concerning the Calamity efforts. Sheikah researchers, ignoring the rest of the hall, were hunched at their own table in a corner and speaking little. They clinked another round of cups before downing their disappointments in drink.

King Rhoam and Lady Impa stood at the side, looking grim as a messenger delivered a note to them. Chard joined them in reading the report of heightened skirmishes with rogue beasts in southeast Necluda. A trio of hinoxes had settled in the marshes around Mount Taran, driving away fishermen and travellers to Faron. They endangered not just the farmlands, but the beaches as well.

Even a night of feasting took no rest from the upcoming battle. No peace lasted. Chard thought again of the sword strapped to his son’s back like a target.

But for now... Link was happy and in love. Chard couldn't stop him from following his heart; he wouldn't dream of it.

* * *

While Link went to Mount Lanayru with Princess Zelda, Chard waited with the King inside the hidden study behind the bookcases of the library. King Rhoam was distracted and nervous, pacing around the small room. He kept following a pattern of pointless actions: pausing to inspect the royal guard prototypes in one corner, perching down in his chair to scribble a few more lines in his journal, and standing up to gaze sadly at a portrait of his late Queen. One could clearly see where the princess had gotten her fair features: bright yellow hair, soft round cheeks, and glimmering eyes of green. The King stared at this image of his wife, undoubtedly thinking of their daughter.

Chard felt exhausted. It was back yet again. That deep, roiling sense of foreboding, a doom worse than anything he’d felt before. Link had left very early that morning, his hood drawn up against the cool bite of pre-dawn mist as he and the princess exited the castle gates. The last Chard had seen of his son was a last minute glance over the shoulder, their eyes meeting one more time. Chard brooded over Link’s expression, uncertain and worried as he now felt. Did he sense this dread too?

“She should be descending by now.”

Chard looked up. The King had settled back into his chair again. He looked closely at the clock upon his desk and stroked his beard. “Goddesses above, it’s a tall mountain. Who knows what manner of beasts reside upon it?”

“Link is with her.”

“Yes. That’s true.” The fear faded from King Rhoam’s face as he momentarily forgot his anxiety and grinned. “I’ve noticed that Zelda has grown very fond of him. Ah, well. It only took her the better part of a year!”

His booming laugh filled the space as Chard forced himself to smile. Link and the princess had reconciled long before that.

Thoughts of his daughter had brought the King to solemnity again. He glanced down at the open pages of his journal, the ink still wet. “If Zelda returns with no changes, I… I shall speak kindly with her. Scolding is pointless now. I forced all those years of training on her... but perhaps I should encourage her to keep researching her beloved relics instead. They may just lead her to answers I can't provide.”

“Good,” Chard said.

The King looked at him sharply, not expecting the bluntness of his response. Chard had surprised himself too, but he could barely muster the will to apologise. He genuinely believed that it would do both the King and princess some good to compromise. And the agitated energy was still writhing inside him, making it hard for him to lie convincingly. It took all his efforts just to concentrate on being here, in the study.

King Rhoam stood. “There’s no use hiding like cowards. We must face the truth, if necessary. Come, we’ll wait for them at the gates.”

They made their way outside. Chard breathed in the crisp evening air and glanced around uneasily. All was quiet. The sky was coloured a pale yellow while the sun sank towards the horizon. Soldiers saluted the King as he walked past them atop the eastern wall. Chard could hear the distant sounds of Castle Town humming softly on the other side. The people moved from place to place, following the order of their regular lives and unknowing of the suspicions that lurked in the pit of his stomach.

He noticed that the King was frowning slightly. His white brows furrowed above his nose. The King stopped and gazed into the distance. “Do you feel…?”

Then, an ear-splitting roar rocked the castle’s foundations. There was nothing Chard could do as he and the King struggled to maintain their balance while the stones beneath their feet quaked. To the east, a four-sided column burst from the grounds of Hyrule Forest Park, ripping trees from their roots and spraying the loamy earth aside. Chard recognised the swirling Sheikah patterns etched upon the sides but instead of the brilliant familiar blue, the lights shone a strange, otherworldly magenta.

Another howl rent the skies, deranged and inhuman. Clouds of fog rolled up from the ground like the spirits of hell themselves. They started to swirl around the castle, blotting out the sun and moving fast to smother them in darkness, though through the wisps Chard could see the tops of the great column cracking open. Soon, a familiar shape appeared. It was one of the ancient machines, the kind that the Sheikah had named Guardians, believing them to be ancient protectors of Hylia’s people. But unlike the excavated relics, this one had no trace of damage or rust. It was pristine and perfect. It spun its stone head round and round almost gleefully.

Suddenly, more Guardians began to stream out from the column’s opening at top speed, too many of them to count. They shimmied down the sides with incredible ease. The park was quickly filled with them, shimmering like a swarm of grotesque mechanical insects. Some of them even took to the air with spinning wings that allowed them to hover over and around the column, beeping in approval as more of its kind continued to spill out with no signs of stopping. Each and every one of them bore the same ominous rosy glow.

“It has come. The Calamity.”

Chard turned and saw the King staring at the fog undulating above them. He finally realised that it was no cloud, but a trail of black smoke and magenta malice, twisting and turning through the air and led by what could only be described as a great beast’s head, though it bore no similarities save for a flat snout, curved horns, and two glinting pinpricks that could be construed as eyes.

The ruby in the King’s golden crown burned fierce in the darkness. With an expression of fury Chard had never seen before, King Rhoam clenched his fists and ran towards the nearest turret, his robe flying out from behind him. Chard came to his senses and rushed after him. They raced down the steps and emerged into the main courtyard.

The castle remained alive. Soldiers ran past, roused by their captains to defend the keep. A line of archers positioned above the Observation room lifted their bows over parapets and aimed them towards the approaching army below, arrows of fire, ice and electricity sizzling, glittering, and sparking. Others had placed themselves around the terrified and helpless household staff, their shields deflecting falling debris and chunks of malice.

To add to this teeming chaos, a clanking of gears and scraping metal heralded the arrival of reinforcements. The few remaining Sheikah of the castle came leading their own Guardians to battle. They positioned themselves upon the walls, setting their pure blue beams upon the enemy below. A cheer came up from the ramparts when their aims were true, and flashes from explosions lit the side of the castle.

The King refused to fall to the temptation of triumph just yet. His eyes narrowed as they followed the demon serpent’s rampage. The Calamity razed through stone roofs and towers effortlessly, climbing the heights more and more.

“It’s headed for the Sanctum,” the King said. He snatched up a royal claymore with both hands before charging up the path. Chard drew a sword of his own, a dark and newly bequeathed blade that mirrored the one in his son’s hands, and followed.

But just as they passed the second gatehouse, everything changed. The seething shape of the Calamity coiled itself round the castle’s highest spire. It stretched its inky jaws to let forth another scream. Chard and the King were forced to stop and shudder as streams of dark red malice suddenly launched forth from the shadows, sailing downward in smouldering arcs directly towards their loyal Guardians. Chard heard a voice — he distantly recognised it as his own — shouting in desperation as the Calamity took over. The Sheikah shrank away from their own creations, who were already turning their eyes towards them.

The King was like stone as he looked down upon the ruin of his country. There were tears in his eyes, but his hands gripped his sword tighter. Without another word, he turned his back on the devastation and continued walking. Chard grabbed the nearest knight and gave his final orders. “Get all the civilians down to the docks. Servants and nobles, give all of them passage to flee. Keep the Guardians within our walls. None of them can get into the city. Send word to Commander Damen of the Castle Town Guard to evacuate all citizens — if he hasn’t started already. If all else fails, draw the enemy out towards Akkala Citadel where the height and walls will help. Don’t stay here.”

“Yes, sir!”

He released the man, who rushed to relay the message. The rest of the knights round the gatehouse had also drawn their swords. Chard saw the fear in their eyes harden with resolve as they looked back at him. He nodded, a last time, then turned to meet his fate.

King Rhoam was standing upon the threshold of the royal Sanctum, the hot updrafts of the burning sky above them making his snowy white beard billow like smoke. Hyrule Castle, the symbol of their fair kingdom, was falling. But here they would make one last stand.

“It’s all up to Zelda,” the King said to Chard as he reached his side. “My beautiful, brilliant daughter… who will never hear these words from me. I now realise that is my only true regret.”

And Link, Chard thought. His brave and beautiful son. But Chard regretted nothing. If this was to be his end, by the Goddess, he would make use of every second of it.

They looked up just as the shadows pulled itself together again. Swords at the ready — the King’s golden claymore and Chard’s dark blade — they backed into the Sanctum, already an empty husk of a throne room. The Calamity followed them, its form convulsing with concentration, those beady eyes winking in and out of the darkness of its own being. Somehow, it seemed to recognise the value of its prey, and the gaping jaws tore apart like a poor fascimile of laughter.

Hylian to the core, the King let out a bellowing war cry as he dove into certain death with Chard right behind him. Two of Hyrule’s best versus the most ancient evil history had ever had. Chard thrust, hacked, slashed with all his might. The King’s claymore seemed to glow in the dying light filtered through the windows as it cut through the shadows. The Calamity pulsed around them, its malice stinging Chard’s skin.

Then, he saw the weapon in his hand crumble and dissolve after one more useless hit. He whirled around desperately to see the King, ragged and empty handed, up at the balcony before a pile of rubble that had been his throne.

“It’s no use,” he called down to Chard. “We need the sword that seals the darkness. It’s the only thing that will work.”

Chard could do nothing as the shadows gathered before him. “But—”

“They will do it. They will save us. All I did was buy them time.”

King Rhoam closed his eyes with dignity and acceptance as the darkness enveloped him. Chard had no time for grief as the Calamity turned its attention on him, nothing but pure hatred, evil, darkness and death.

He felt no fear as he faced it. His weapons were gone, but he had his shield. Wait. No. Not his own… the scratches and markings were much, much older. He must have taken the wrong one that morning in distraction. Chard collected himself from the floor and held his own father’s shield before him, one hand holding the other steady.

“You won’t win, demon,” he said. “Bastard monster. My boy has the sword.”

There wasn’t a shred of a soul that Chard could recognise in this swirling mass before him, but the shapeless face seemed to respond to his words. It visibly recoiled at the mention of the sword.

“He will come… and he will end you.”

When the Calamity constricted again before hurling itself at him, Chard smiled.

Link was possibly the only truly good thing the Goddess had blessed him with. Chard had raised a hero. He had given over his entire life to watch his son become a great and noble knight who was far better than him in every single possible regard. Morals, combat, love — Chard freely and gladly admitted inferiority to everything. It had been an honour to be part of his life. It had been worth it.

He had no regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing those last paragraphs hurt way more than finishing HYD.
> 
> Thank you very much for indulging in this OC-starring genfic -- the type of story that I don't think would usually get a lot of attention. It was both hard work and a delight to write, so I hope it was just as a good read.
> 
> I've actually begun writing "sequelfic" (the post-Calamity story) but it won't release until the end of this month since I want to build up a few buffer chapters because the end of this year is going to be a real tight squeeze of a schedule. But do look for a one-shot completely **un** related to this universe some time before then, or just relax and read some other great fics on this site!
> 
> Thanks once again! <3 I'm so grateful to have been able to share this with you.


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